


All The Pretty Girls

by starswholisten



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Moriel - Freeform, drunk nesta and drunk mor because this is what gives me life, nesta and mor are roommates, the boys are in a band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:25:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8272777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswholisten/pseuds/starswholisten
Summary: Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian's band, the Illyrian Steppes, play a show every Saturday night, and Mor has never missed a performance. How could she, when Azriel dedicates a solo to a mystery girl every show? She's on a mission to find out who it is - she just wants her best friend to be happy.(In which Azriel dedicates a song to Mor every performance and Mor is stupidly oblivious.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should not be getting into another multi-chapter fic, but here we are, because I am struggling with physical pain writing the next chapter of A Dreamer In A Court of Nightmares.
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm going to alternate POVs or just do this from Mor's POV yet, let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> Enjoy my Moriel trash. :)

_Mor_

Rita's, the most popular bar in the city, was never without its crowds on a Saturday night. Mor moved through the bar carefully, trying not to spill the drinks in her hands. She pushed past the thick groups of people that had gathered in front of the stage, making her way to the table she and her friends had claimed.

“Ugh, I swear if we didn’t know the owner here, we’d never get our drinks,” Mor groaned as she placed a vodka soda in front of Feyre and handed one of the two beers to Nesta. Mor swigged her own as she collapsed into the empty chair, nearly bumping into the tables beside them.

“I think it’s less about us knowing Rita and more about us knowing the band,” Feyre giggled, glancing at the stage.

Mor shrugged. It _was_ handy to be friends with the regular Saturday night band. Her cousin, Rhysand, had started the Illyrian Steppes with his two best friends, Cassian and Azriel, a few years ago. The three of them were like brothers, and were quite well-known in their city, so the band had landed some small gigs right off the bat.

With Cassian on the drums, Azriel on bass, and Rhysand’s talented vocals and even more talented guitar-playing, the three had quickly become successful, and now had secured this regular gig at Rita’s. They mostly sang covers, but now that the three of them were starting to write some of their own songs, almost everyone in the town came out to see them play on Saturday nights. Mor never missed a show herself.

Mor noticed Feyre sit up straighter as the lights dimmed in the bar. Rhysand was Mor’s cousin, but was also Feyre’s boyfriend, and she would never get enough of Rhysand’s flirty gestures to her during his performances and the overly obvious allusions to her in his original songs.

“Think he has a new one for you tonight?” Mor whispered as she nudged her friend with an elbow, and Feyre blushed as she smirked.

“I know for a fact he does. He gave me a preview last night."

“Ugh,” Nesta scoffed at her sister, leaning back in her chair as she finished her beer. “Please spare us the details."

Feyre only continued smiling like a cat. “Cassian helped him write it. The lyric about blue eyes isn’t just for me, you know,” she teased.

“No thank you,” was all Nesta replied, though Mor couldn’t help but notice her own cheeks flush pink. It was no secret that Cassian had quite a thing for the other Archeron sister, but Nesta rejected his advances adamantly. Only Mor and Feyre could tell that it was all part of a game for her - and that she wanted him just as badly.

Before Mor could comment, however, the crowd erupted into applause and cheers as Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand strutted onto the stage. Mor noticed Rhys and Feyre lock eyes immediately, and it was an effort not to laugh. They were far, far past the honeymoon stage of their relationship, but they still looked at each other like the other was the moon and the stars and the entire universe.

“How is everyone doing tonight?” Rhysand said into the mic as he strung his guitar over his head. The crowd erupted, and Mor cupped her hands over her mouth to cheer with them.

“Excellent,” said Cassian, leaning over to his own mic on the left side of his drum set. “It’s going to be a great show tonight!"

“We’ve been working on some new music, so why don’t we start with a new song?” Rhys said as he nodded to Azriel, letting his friend know to be ready for the intro. Azriel hardly spoke during their performances, but Mor always found herself watching the steady intensity in his eyes as he played his instrument and sang the background vocals. He clearly loved the music, even if the interactions with the audience weren’t his favorite.

“This one’s for Ms. Archeron, of course,” Rhys said, though Cassian smirked at the vagueness of his dedication.

The Illyrian Steppes began their first song, and indeed, it was the one with the lyrics about the Archeron eyes. Mor found an excuse to ignore the eye sex going on between her best friend and her cousin and instead smirked at Nesta, whose face had gone ghostly pale at the obvious illusions to her in the song. Mor was pretty sure Rhys hadn’t written the lyric, “her eyes and words are so icy, oh but she burns like rum on a fire”. Feyre wasn’t normally alluded to with fire in these songs; that was definitely the feisty, explosive Nesta.

Cassian actually tried to meet Nesta’s gaze once during the song, but she looked pointedly away, and Mor slapped her hard on the shoulder. “Oh, Nesta, stop lying to yourself and take a chance!” Mor exclaimed over the music, and Nesta shrugged away, but Mor couldn’t help but notice a small smile form on her lips.

As the band played, Feyre and Mor got up to dance in the crowd of people near the front of the stage, and Nesta even joined them after a while, loosening up after a few beers. The show _was_ great that night, with the boys playing all crowd favorites and new originals.

When Azriel came up to the mic, Mor sat back at her table, winded from dancing, and waited for her favorite part of every Illyrian Steppes show.

“Everyone having a good time?” Az said into the mic, and everyone cheered loudly. Mor clapped as she watched him switch to his guitar. “This one is for a special girl in the audience,” he announced, as he did every show.

Every night since the boys had started the band, Azriel would have one solo each performance. His voice was just as good at Rhysand’s, maybe even better, but Rhys was the better frontman. Even so, the band had to showcase his talent somehow, and this was the way the chose to do it.

Toward the end of the set every night, he would take the mic, dedicate the song to whichever girl in the audience caught his hazel eyes that night, and sing whichever cover he knew would make the girl swoon. It became a phenomenon among the fans; the girls in the audience would always whisper amongst each other, deciphering the lyrics to try and figure out which lucky girl he was singing to that night. It made Mor laugh to see them so caught up in what Az probably just did as a crowd-pleaser nowadays. He rarely left with a girl after the shows, despite the number of them throwing themselves at him.

Mor just liked his voice. A lot. And, as one of his best friends, she could tell that when he was singing his solo, he was his happiest. Whether it was a girl he was thinking about, or just a passion for singing romantic songs, he truly seemed himself in those moments. After everything he had been through in his life, Mor liked to know that something - or even someone - could make him forget his past.

Azriel began to play and Mor leaned her chin on her hand, watching as his fingers moved gently across the strings of his guitar. He never looked out into the audience when he sang a song - he always looked down at those hands, scarred and calloused from years of playing bass and guitar until they bled.

_I want you, and I always will_  
_I wish I was worth what I know you deserve_  
_You know I’d rather drown than to go on without you, but you’re pulling me down_  
_It feels like there’s oceans between you and me once again_

The song started slowly, but built to a quicker pace after the second chorus, and Mor swayed along to the beat of it. Tapping the table with her hand to the beat, Mor mimicked the movement of Azriel’s hands on his guitar. The lyrics flowed around her like shadows, and she soaked in them, hoping that whichever lucky girl Az was singing to would feel the song speaking to her.

Mor didn’t notice when Feyre had sat down, but her friend shoved her gently with her elbow and pulled her out of her reverie as the song ended. Feyre gave her a knowing look, and Mor stuck her tongue out casually, not wanting to have _that_ ridiculous conversation again. If she had to hear one more time how Feyre was _convinced_ that these songs were about Mor, she was going to explode.

Azriel was quiet, but he wasn’t the type of guy to keep his feelings bottled up. At least not in Mor’s experience. He had always been an open book with her, and she was certain that if he felt anything for her at all, she would be able to get that out of him. No, these songs were for the many pretty girls who flitted about Rita’s on the weekends, and she was fine with that. Feyre could disagree all she wanted.

The band finished their set with even more enthusiasm than they had begun with, and the bar went wild as the boys exited the stage to join the crowds of people. It usually took at least half an hour for them to make their way through all of the people flagging them down to get to their table, so Feyre rushed off to find Rhysand herself. Nesta brought Mor another beer and the two women chatted for a bit before Azriel and Cassian finally made their way to them, drinks in hand.

“You guys were excellent tonight, as always,” Mor quipped, and Cassian grinned broadly. Azriel sat next on her left and threw back the remainder of his drink before setting the glass on the table. Cassian sat between Azriel and Nesta, much to the latter’s dismay. She didn’t seem to want to address the obvious tension between them during the first song, and Mor rolled her eyes, turning to Az. “Your song was my favorite though. Who’s the lucky lady?” Mor craned her neck in mock search. “After that song, she must have jumped right up to you the second you left the stage!"

Mor couldn’t help but notice the glance Cassian gave Azriel, as moments before, his eyes had been glued to Nesta’s head buried in her phone. Azriel smiled sheepishly at Mor as she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “No such luck,” he shrugged.

“Her loss. I don’t get why you don’t just say her name when you sing the song. Who was it this time anyw-"

“Az,” Rhysand’s voice sounded behind them, interrupting Mor’s question, as Rhys clapped his hands on his brother’s back. “Your glass is too empty. You deserve another drink."

“No,” Mor protested as the song changed. It was one of her favorites. “We were just going to dance. Az?” She stood up and held her hand out to her friend.

Az gave Rhys a pained look as Feyre approached holding several beers, handing one to her boyfriend. She offered one to Az, and Mor took it, swigging from it before giving it to him. “Chug that. I’m not missing this song.” She twirled into the crowd on the dance floor, knowing Az would follow eventually.

Indeed, he emerged moments later, grabbing Mor around the waist and turning her to face him. She laughed, letting her long blonde hair fan out behind her, and grabbed his hands as the beat picked up.

She wished she knew what girl Az had his eye on tonight, because if she could see how he could dance, she would want him in a heartbeat. He twirled Mor and they danced around each other in perfect sync, his eyes only on her. She didn’t want this mystery girl to think they were together, lest she be turned off from dancing with him, so they switched partners every few songs. Mor found herself dancing with Cassian a few times, and danced with a few other guys, but Mor and Az always found their way back to each other. They ended the night tipsy and laughing in each other’s arms, pointing out all of the ridiculous drunk people acting foolish and making bets on how many drinks it would take before Nesta would dance with Cassian. Azriel won with a bet of five, and Mor had to buy him another beer.

The six of them were the last to leave the bar, Rita praising the boys for their spectacular performance as they paid their tab. Feyre and Rhys led the way, walking hand in hand, and Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, and Mor formed a group behind them. Nesta eventually needed help walking, having gone with a higher heel and a higher blood alcohol content that night, and Cassian was more than happy to help. They fell behind.

“Better luck another night, Az,” Mor said, nudging him with her elbow. “But really, you should take my advice and make it clear which girl you’re singing to. Might help."

“I’ll consider it,” he mused as Mor looped her arm with his. “It wasn’t a total waste of a night."

“Glad to hear it,” Mor declared. “We make a formidable dancing pair.” Azriel shook his head and laughed.

When the group split off, Feyre went with Rhys and the boys, so Nesta and Mor bid them all goodbye to walk to their apartment. Mor was not looking forward to being the mom friend and holding Nesta’s hair that night, but she supposed it was worth it for a fun night.

As Mor fell asleep, long past 3 o’clock in the morning, she had Azriel’s song stuck in her head. She couldn’t wait to hear what he would sing next Saturday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the work is named for the Kaleo song of the same name.
> 
> Songs referenced in this chapter:  
> Cherry Wine by Hozier  
> Oceans by Seafret


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to switch POVs and do each scene from both Mor's and Azriel's POVs!  
> Here's a little glimpse inside the head of my poor baby Az :(

_Azriel_

Azriel didn’t know why he let the disappointment hit him so hard. It was the same every time. He would spend painstaking hours writing a song, thinking that there was no possible way she _wouldn’t_ understand, that this time would be different. That Mor would finally realize that he was singing to her.

_Her._

They had been best friends since they were teenagers, when Rhysand had first introduced Azriel to his cousin. She’d moved to their city after family trouble, which Azriel knew all too well, and she’d been a constant in their lives ever since. And Azriel had been in love with her from the first moment he saw her.

Becoming best friends made it harder, better, and worse, all at the same time.

When he’d joined this band with his brothers, he didn’t take it very seriously. He was just bored. But when she started to come to every show, when he would catch her golden head bobbing to the beat, when she would dance and sway and shower the band with compliments after, he knew this was more than he bargained for. Because if _she_ took it seriously, he had to. This could be his chance.

_I want you, and I always will._

So when Rhysand and Cassian had found his folder full of original songs, they’d convinced him to sing at least one every performance. He didn’t tell them why, and he had no idea if they knew. All he knew is that Mor kept coming back to each show, and kept asking him which girl he was singing to that night. As if he could ever have eyes for anyone but the blonde smiling at him from the front table of Rita’s.

And that was why he didn’t just _tell_ her. He doubted she felt the same way in the first place. But he also didn’t even deserve her beauty, inside and out. Mor was perfect in that way that was almost unfair; she lit up every room she entered, she made any man fall with a simple flip of her golden hair, she could dance to any song and lead even the clumsiest dancer when she took his hand. That was the only way Azriel was ever able to loosen up and dance.

_I wish I was worth what I know you deserve._

Azriel couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- let Mor settle for less than he knew she deserved. But still, it hurt him to know he could never have her. So it was easier for him to expel his feelings up on that stage and pretend that she absorbed and processed his lyrics rather than face outright rejection. It was why he never looked into the audience as he sang, and it was why he sometimes let the girls in the audience hang on him before the magnet inside him eventually pulled him to her. As she somehow still wanted to dance with him. And that was how he knew that, if he was singing to another girl or another hundred girls, she didn’t mind, and she didn’t feel what he felt every time another guy in that bar grabbed her hand to dance.

_You know I’d rather drown than to go on without you, but you’re pulling me down._

Every song to her was a desperate plea, and as fruitless as it was, Azriel couldn’t find it in his heart to stop. It was her favorite part of the night. She might love his voice, his songs, but she did not love him. Somehow, he still had hope that she might, one day. But even if she didn’t, he would continue to share his love with her in any way that he could, and through music was the only way he knew how.

_It feels like there’s oceans between you and me once again._

Even though he didn’t look while he was playing his own song, as the band finished their set that Saturday night at Rita’s, Azriel watched Mor dance and sway to their music. She was so free, spinning and leaning into Feyre as they sang along with the lyrics. Mor could even get Nesta up and dancing, which was a feat in and of itself.

At the end of their set, the boys blended into the crowd, with the average number of girls grabbing at Azriel wondering if the song had been about them. Azriel was polite, and engaged a few of them in conversation, but he had long gotten bored with his fangirls and only wanted to make his way to Mor. When Cassian handed him a drink and dragged him out of the crowd, he was grateful.

He spotted her sitting with Nesta, chatting and drinking a beer, and didn’t miss Cassian’s smirk as he took in the girl he was so obviously falling for. As they approached the girls, Azriel’s tense demeanor from his interactions with the crowd softened. Something about the way Mor gave off her bright personality settled him, and he eased when Mor turned and looked at him.

“You guys were excellent tonight, as always,” she said, Cassian grinning as Azriel sat down next to her. Gods, she was beyond beautiful tonight. She wore a tight but tasteful red dress that hugged all of her curves, and Azriel had to resist the urge to stare. Frustrated, he knocked back his drink in one swig and set his glass on the table. He attempted to distract himself with the tension between Cassian and Nesta, the latter scowling intently, but Mor turned to him.

“Your song was my favorite though,” she told him, and even though he knew it wasn’t going to be different this time, his heart still leapt in his chest at the possibility that she knew-

"Who’s the lucky lady? After that song, she must have jumped right up to you the second you left the stage!” Mor looked around the bar jokingly as Azriel’s disappointment settled in. He hoped she had missed the way Cassian glanced at him. Azriel knew he suspected something, but he’d never had a direct conversation about it with his brother.

Mor only glared in Nesta’s direction, her attention already diverted. “No such luck,” Azriel replied, smiling at her sheepishly.

“Her loss. I don’t get why you don’t just say her name when you sing the song. Who was it this time anyw-"

Azriel almost sighed in audible relief as Rhysand snuck up behind them, putting his hand’s on Azriel’s shoulders and interrupting Mor’s dangerous question. He murmured something about his empty glass and Azriel almost leapt up at the chance to escape the awkward conversation when Mor caught the change of song and spoke again.

“No. We were just going to dance. Az?” She offered her hand to him. And damn it, he had so little restraint, and he took it, giving Rhysand an apologetic look. When Feyre skipped up and Mor snatched a beer out of her hand, swigged it, handed it to Azriel and commanded him to chug it, he almost lost his self control on the spot. She was too much for him to handle sometimes, and he took a large sip as she spun onto the dance floor, expecting him to follow. And he did.

This - dancing - was the closest they ever got to, well, anything. It was a different atmosphere, a different world, surrounded by drunken people and good music. He was less fearful here, and as he found Mor in the crowd, he grabbed her waist and spun her to face him. Her blonde hair whipped the person behind her, but she didn’t even notice or care, and she giggled in a way that made him want to kiss it away from her lips.

Yet, his resistance still existed in this alternate world. So he didn’t. He paused long enough for Mor to have to grab his hands, and they began to dance.

Azriel loved to watch her, the graceful way she moved, the seductiveness of her hips, the glint in her eyes as the music washed over her. It inspired him, and he twirled her to the rhythm of the song, both of them moving together in perfect harmony. They switched partners, as the song called for, but Azriel never took his eyes off her. She danced well with Cassian, and with other guys, but she never smiled as she did when she was dancing with him. Their friendship allowed for those personal moments of conversation and laughter as they danced, and he never felt more himself than in these moments with her.

As they left, Feyre and Rhys lead the way, and Cassian and a very drunk Nesta dropped back. Azriel found himself self conscious now, without the protective barrier of the crowd, but as Mor nudged closer to him, he leaned into her touch.

“Better luck another night, Az,” she said. “But really, you should take my advice and make it clear which girl you’re singing to. Might help."

 _I’m singing to you, Mor._ “I’ll consider it,” he chuckled. When Mor linked her arm with his, his heart rate picked up. He was instantly warm on the cold Autumn night. “It wasn’t a total waste of a night,” he dared.

“Glad to hear it. We make a formidable dancing pair.” Azriel laughed.

As he walked back to his townhouse on the other side of the city, Rhys and Feyre breaking off a few minutes after Mor and Nesta had, Cassian gave Azriel a knowing look.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“Az, I might be saying this because I’m drunk,” he said, scratching his neck. “Or because I put a couple cracks in Nesta's walls tonight. Regardless. You have to tell her, brother."

Azriel played it off with a scoff. “Not sure what you’re talking about."

“You need to tell Mor that all those songs aren’t for all the other pretty girls in that bar. That they’re for her."

Azriel froze. “How do you-"

“Any sorry bastard can tell that you’re in deep shit. You might be in deeper shit than me with Nesta. Hell, you might be in deeper shit than Rhys was with Feyre. Come on, Azriel,” Cassian stopped as they approached Azriel’s front door and put a hand on his shoulder. “What do you have to lose?"

“Everything,” Azriel said simply. Because truly, if he told Mor and she rejected him like he knew she would, then what would he have left? Their friendship meant everything to him.

Cassian shook his head. “I think you’d be surprised. Sleep on it,” he gave Azriel one last pat on the shoulder as he made to walk home.

Azriel stood for a moment in the light of his front porch and watched a moth fly eagerly into the lamp, dropping to the ground as the bug zapper determined his fate. If that wasn’t a sign, he didn’t know what was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments!


	3. Chapter 3

_Mor_

Mor woke the next Saturday morning to Nesta banging on her bedroom door at noon.

“Wash your dishes, Mor,” Nesta yelled from the hallway. “Elain likes a clean house and I’m not cleaning up after you!"

Mor groaned. Nesta and Feyre’s sister, Elain, was coming to stay with them for a week, and Mor was not prepared for guests. Her room was a mess, her closet needed some serious re-organizing, and of course, she hadn’t cleaned her dishes in over 24 hours. It wasn’t like Elain was sleeping in her room though, with Feyre’s bed perfectly available now that she’d practically moved in with Rhys. But the dishes she could understand, so she rolled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen so Nesta would stop nagging.

“When does Elain get here?” Mor asked, picking up a sponge. “Will she be coming to the show tonight?"

“Mhmm,” Nesta hummed, dusting what looked like a perfectly clean spot on the wall near the dining room table. “She can’t wait. She’s never seen them play before."

Elain lived fairly far from the other two Archerons, so Mor didn’t really know much about her, other than that she was much quieter and much more reserved than the other sisters. She rarely visited, usually making Feyre and Nesta take the trip to her, so Mor had actually only met her once a few years ago. That was before Azriel, Rhys, and Cassian had started the Illyrian Steppes.

“She’s in for a treat then.” Mor smiled, wondering what surprises the boys had in store for tonight. Azriel had hardly been around all week; maybe he was working on a new song. Mor turned to Nesta as she shut off the sink, throwing a spoon into the drying rack. “Have you told her that the drummer is hopelessly in love with you?"

Nesta scowled and gave Mor a particularly rude hand gesture, but Mor refused to back down. “Come onnnn, Nesta. Everyone could see how cozy you two were getting last Saturday night.”

Nesta scoffed. “If that’s cozy, then you and Azriel were practically married. Should I tell her the bassist is hopelessly in love with _you_?"

“Please, Nesta. He is not. That’s just how we are.” Mor grabbed Nesta's shoulders and lead her out of the kitchen toward her room. "Let me help you pick out an outfit for tonight, please?"

“You’re avoiding the conversation again,” Nesta sang, throwing an accusatory glare in Mor’s direction. Gods, her friends would never relent. She supposed she deserved it, with all the times she pushed Feyre toward Rhysand in the early days of their relationship and the shit she was currently giving Nesta about Cassian. But Azriel? Why did everyone think he had any interest in her at all? She was practically one of the guys most of the time, and no one had ever thought of her as any different. Az practically had his pick of beautiful women, it baffled her that Feyre and Nesta insisted that she should even try. It would be completely worthless and, not to mention, would almost certainly ruin their friendship.

Why was she even considering this? Mor didn’t even have feelings for Azriel. At least, she didn’t think she did.

“I’m avoiding nothing,” Mor waved her hand absently as she practically pushed Nesta into her room. Nesta scowled at the mess, but said nothing as Mor stomped with purpose to her closet and pulled out several tight-fitting dresses. “Green or blue?"

Nesta sighed. “Green. But this conversation isn’t over.” She snatched the dress from Mor’s hands. “You can play matchmaker all you want, but you should take care of yourself every once in a while.” Nesta stomped out of the room and shut the door behind her, knocking over a few pictures on Mor’s nightstand with the force of it.

Mor sighed and walked over to pick one of the fallen frames off the floor. It was a picture of her and Azriel, a rare one in which he was smiling. Mor stared at it, at his facial expression that Mor saw only when they were dancing together, or when she told him a particularly funny joke, or when he was singing his solo every Saturday night...

She set the picture frame down and closed her eyes, Azriel’s smile burned into the back of her eyelids. She thought of Feyre’s suggestive glances at her for the past few weeks, and considered Nesta’s words, and Mor wondered if her best friends might be right.

\-------

Mor opted for the bright blue dress Nesta had turned down. She loved the tight bodice and the flowing long sleeves, and she wanted to look a little nicer tonight. They were entertaining a guest, after all.

Elain arrived late in the afternoon, and Feyre had come home to get ready with Mor and her sisters before they went to Rita’s. The middle sister was bubblier than Mor had remembered her being, and with her brown eyes and her golden brown hair looking almost blonde in most lights, she and Mor were more alike than she expected. Elain even joked that her sisters had replaced her with Mor. The two clicked instantly, and while Mor never had a problem making friends, Elain seemed just as wonderful as her sisters.

When the girls arrived at Rita’s, Feyre went to the bar while Nesta, Elain, and Mor grabbed the usual table. Mor chatted endlessly to Elain about the bar, the band, and the boys, eliciting giggle from the middle sister when Mor told her about Cassian’s infatuation with Nesta.

"Rhysand and Cassian have been conspiring to make the songs work for both of your sisters," Mor giggled, sipping on her drink. She leaned in to whisper to Elain, "and I think it's working."

Elain chuckled, lifting her hand daintily to her mouth. "What about the other one, Azriel? Does he have a girlfriend?"

Mor didn't know why the question made her uneasy, but she was suddenly defensive. "No," she said too quickly, and managed to shrug it off before Elain could register any surprise. "But he does dedicate a song to a pretty girl every night. It's probably the best part of every show."

Elain smiled. "That's so romantic!" she gushed, resting her chin in her hands. “Do you know who she is?"

“Usually just any pretty girl in the audience, I think," Mor said absently, turning her gaze to the stage as she tried to suppress the bile rising in her throat. For the first time, the prospect of Azriel singing to anyone tonight unsettled her stomach.

“It’s time!” Feyre exclaimed, elbowing Elain, as the lights brightened on the stage and Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their entrance.

The boys started with a cover of one of Mor’s favorite songs. In fact, it was the one she and Azriel had danced to the other night, and she was immediately up and running to the dance floor, dragging Elain behind her. She vaguely caught Azriel’s eyes on them as they made their way forward. He looked nervous, for some reason, and Mor shot him an encouraging smile before turning to Elain to shout the lyrics to the chorus.

_Oh, don’t you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me_  
_I said, “You’re holding back”_  
_She said, “Shut up and dance with me”_  
_This woman is my destiny_  
_She said, “Shut up and dance with me”_

__Azriel had a long guitar solo during the song, which allowed Rhys to pull Feyre on stage for a few moments, yelling, _“Come on, girl!”_ as he lifted her up._ _

__The set continued on with many more upbeat songs, and Mor was physically exhausted when Azriel finally stepped up to the microphone. He dragged a stool from the side of the stage and sat down, stringing his guitar over his head._ _

__Mor felt a hard jab in her ribs and turned quickly to see Nesta staring pointedly at her. “Does your face hurt from how much you just smiled, Mor?” she deadpanned, her eyebrows raised. Feyre laughed from beside her and began poking her arm. Mor returned Nesta's earlier vulgar hand gesture, shrugging Feyre away, and sauntered off to sit back at the table. Elain was already seated there, sipping her wine, and waved happily at Mor as she joined her._ _

__“I can’t wait for this!” Elain said in her ear, a tipsy giggle coming out of her. Mor still couldn’t place why she was irritated, but she nodded._ _

__“Alright, everyone?” Azriel said into his microphone. He wiped his sweaty palms on his tight black jeans before they found their place on his guitar. That was odd. Mor never saw him this nervous. She cheered extra loud in response._ _

__“This one is for…” He paused, taking a deep breath, and Mor’s heart hammered in her chest. “This one is for her."_ _

__An unexpected chill washed over her. Had he almost said a name? That meant he _knew_ her name, that meant he hadn’t just picked a random pretty girl from the audience..._ _

_____I never thought that this morning would ever come_  
_Over mountains, through doors, we have always won_  
_Laid bare, we've shared every shadowy heart_

__This was a new song for sure. Azriel’s voice shook slightly, in a way only those who knew him would ever notice._ _

_____I’ve played out this scene oh so many nights_  
_And for a moment, we are timeless_  
_Bare feet in the grass with your dandelion hair_  
_And no, I am not scared_

__Mor barely heard whatever Elain whispered to her as her blood ran cold and her heart sped up even more. Azriel never - _never_ \- was that specific in his songs._ _

__Dandelion hair. Mor twirled a piece of her blonde hair around her finger as she leaned back in her seat to steady herself. She could not, would not, allow herself to entertain the idea..._ _

__But it was too late. As her heart pounded in her chest, she found herself hoping that Azriel was, indeed, singing about _her_ hair. About her. That she was the girl he was currently bearing his heart to on that stage. And the force of that realization hit her like a truck._ _

_____If there’s one in a lifetime_  
_There is no doubt in my mind_  
_Feel the earth as it moves_  
_As I stand here with you_

__Azriel shifted on his stool as he sang, and the eyes watching his hands glassed over. Mor knew then that he was going to do something to make it known who he was singing to. She tensed in her seat, not knowing what was coming over her. All she knew were Azriel’s hands on the guitar strings, his voice sailing through her heart, and his gaze lifting slowly._ _

_As your eyes meet with my eyes..._

__He lifted his head and looked to their table. Right at Elain._ _

_____Beautiful in the sunlight_  
_Breathe into me, feel the earth_  
_As your heart beats faster, my heart beats faster_

__The glance was almost too quick to notice. Mor wasn’t even sure Elain noticed. But Mor certainly did, and her heart fell through her chest and landed in a deep pit of disappointment, much to her chagrin._ _

__Nesta was right. She was in such deep shit._ _

__Mor hardly heard the next verse as she fought internally with herself, pushing her feelings down, down inside and trying not to watch for him glancing at anyone else. She didn’t think she could bear it. In fact, she didn’t think she could bear the rest of the song._ _

__“Excuse me,” she said absently to Elain, who gave her a confused look, and Mor strutted her way directly to the bar. She ordered the strongest drink on the menu and had already finished half of it before Azriel had finished the song._ _

__Rhys started singing another upbeat song, and Mor was so not in the mood to dance that when Feyre came up to her, all smiles and trying to pull her onto the dance floor, she unleashed a growl._ _

__Feyre immediately relented. “What’s wrong?” her friend asked as she signaled to the bartender for another drink._ _

__“I’m fine. I just want to drink this. Go dance,” Mor tried to say evenly. Her voice cracked._ _

__“No,” Feyre sat on a stool at the bar and patted the seat next to her. “You never want to sit and mope on the sidelines. Tell me what’s wrong? Was it Azriel’s song that was so obviously about you?” She was teasing, but there was also a genuine question in her voice. Mor sighed and took the seat next to her._ _

__“I’m so fucked, Feyre,” Mor set her drink down and put her head in her hands. “I’m so incredibly fucked."_ _

__“I know, Mor. Trust me,” Feyre sipped her drink and put a hand on Mor’s arm. "We all know. Maybe not Az, but the rest of us… Az is just as fucked as you are. I mean, really, ‘dandelion hair’? You’re both making yourselves miserable avoiding this."_ _

__“Are you sure?” Mor said as a tear ran down her face. She could only be drunk to be crying about this. But she knew she wasn’t._ _

__Feyre gave her a concerned look as the boys ended their final song and the crowd erupted into cheers. “As sure as I am that Rhysand loves me. Azriel feels the same about you. Just give him an opportunity to tell you. Go find him."_ _

__Mor wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying not to smudge her makeup. “Okay,” she grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “I’ll go find him."_ _

__Feyre sprang up from her seat and smiled. She gave Mor a one-armed hug before skipping into the crowd to find Rhys, leaving Mor alone with her nerves and her overwhelming realization of her feelings for Azriel._ _

__She saw him then, moving through the crowd to the bar, and her heart began to race. She’d always admired the way his dark hair was just long enough to brush the top of his neck, the gentle hazel color of his eyes, his steady and silent demeanor when he thought no one was watching, and the way his body language instantly softened when he saw her._ _

__As it did now. They locked eyes across the bar, and Mor gave him a gentle smile before his attention was ripped from her by something in the crowd._ _

__This was it. This was her chance. She stood tentatively from her stool and steeled herself, throwing back the rest of her drink and walking straight into the crowd._ _

__Only, when she finally found him, she saw him talking to another girl. Another blonde. Elain._ _

__And then he smiled at her._ _

__It was the smile he only ever reserved for Mor, with the softened gaze and relaxed shoulders and a twinkle in his eye._ _

__When Elain smiled back, Mor turned around and walked right out of the bar._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced in this chapter:
> 
> Shut Up And Dance - Walk The Moon  
> Dandelion Hair - Joe Brooks


	4. Chapter 4

_Azriel_  

Azriel could say he was taking Cassian’s advice, but then he would have to admit that his friend was right. And he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He spent the rest of the weekend mulling over Cassian’s words that night. _I think you’d be surprised._  Cassian had said it like he knew something that Azriel didn’t. 

And even that slight possibility had given Azriel the resolve to write a new song and try again. He’d done it every week for months, and he wasn’t about to stop now. But maybe there was something he should be doing differently, if there was even a chance...

_I don’t get why you don’t just say her name.  
_ _Make it clear which girl you’re singing to._

Azriel shoved down the irony that Mor had given him this advice, but he considered it. He really did. But he knew that when he got on that stage, he was never going to bring himself to say her name. 

He spent the entire week at his guitar, writing late into the night and waking up early to a pre-brewed pot of coffee and his favorite pen. His creativity wasn’t flowing, like he couldn’t put his feelings into words. In his frustration, he ignored texts and forgot meals until Thursday night, when Rhys and Cassian dragged him to dinner with the girls.

And Mor had looked so beautiful that night, her gold dress making her blonde hair shine in a way that blinded him, that he had decided to be bold. Despite arriving home well after midnight, Azriel had gone right to his guitar and written “Dandelion Hair” well into the morning, collapsing only when the sun had fully risen in the sky.

Now it was Saturday morning again, and he was regretting everything.

“What do you mean, you’re not singing tonight?” Cassian asked incredulously at lunch that afternoon, the three boys lounging in Rhysand’s living room with Chinese takeout. “You’ve been writing all week."

“Nothing good,” Azriel mumbled between bites. 

“Bullshit,” Rhys shot back. “I know you, Az, and you’ve either got something really risky or really good - probably both - judging by the way you’ve been acting this week.” Rhys leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms, and narrowed his violet eyes at his brother. “You’re singing it. Tonight."

Azriel sighed, exasperated. “Rhys-"

“Oh come on, Az! She’ll love it,” quipped Feyre as she walked out of Rhysand’s bedroom wearing one of his shirts over a pair of leggings. She smirked. “Even if it’s shit."

Cassian snorted as Azriel sank back into the couch cushions, trying to disappear. “I’m not having this conversation,” he said quickly as Feyre raised her eyebrows at him.

“Fine,” she leaned over Rhys to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m going home for a bit to see Elain before the show. I’ll see you tonight.” Rhys nodded at his girlfriend as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug goodbye, resting her head on top of his.

“Your sister’s here?” Cassian asked, and Feyre nodded. “Well, Az, you can’t disappoint all three Archeron sisters now can you? That’s not a wrath I’d want to face."

It was Azriel’s turn to snort, thinking that he knew very well that Cassian practically begged for the wrath of the most ferocious Archeron sister. But he wasn’t one to point that out, especially when Cassian looked ready to fire back with everything he had. “Fine,” Azriel groaned, and Feyre giggled. "I’ll sing it, you pricks."

Rhys, Cassian, and Feyre mock-cheered as he conceded, and Azriel gave them all a rude gesture. Feyre left at last, calling, “I’ll say hi to Mor for you!” as she slammed the door behind her.

If Azriel didn’t tell her soon, one of these pricks was going to drunkenly slip. And for that reason alone, he vowed to himself that he’d sing his song tonight, and that he would say her name and look at her as he sang, and that he would find her after the show. Tonight was the night.

\-------

Az lingered backstage for longer than he normally did before a show. He needed to steel himself for the performance, and seeing her from here, in a tight blue dress with long, flowing sleeves that made her look like she had wings… it gave him some resolve.

She was sitting with Nesta and who he assumed to be Elain, and of course, they looked to be getting along like old friends. Mor was like that with everyone, and he guessed it made sense that anyone who met Mor instantly liked her. She certainly had that effect on him.

Azriel pulled his eyes away reluctantly with five minutes to go before showtime. Rhys patted him on the shoulder wordlessly, and Azriel was thankful that Cassian was too preoccupied fixing his collar to say anything before the bar announced them and they took the stage.

Their first song, coincidentally, was a cover of the song he and Mor had danced to last weekend, and he saw her instantly rise from her seat and drag Elain behind her to the dance floor. He was utterly unprepared for the smile she directed at him as she began to dance, and his heart flipped in his chest remembering Cassian’s words again. _I think you’d be surprised._

How could he not be surprised, when her smile, the brightest and most carefree and most beautiful, was directed at him?

_Oh, don’t you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me_  
_I said, “You’re holding back”_  
_She said, “Shut up and dance with me”  
_ _This woman is my destiny  
_ _She said, “Shut up and dance with me”_

Mor knew every word to this song. She yelled the lyrics almost loud enough that he could hear her voice distinctly in the crowd. He couldn’t help but think that this song described them in a way, with Mor insisting that Azriel dance with her every time they were out together. The thought made him smile through his entire guitar solo.

 As their set progressed, a hard, unsettled feeling began to form deep in the pit of his stomach. He counted the songs until his solo, _three more songs, two more, one…_  And he lost Mor in the crowd as he walked up to the stool at the front of the stage and sat down, stringing his guitar over his head.

“Alright everyone?” he asked, hearing his voice shake. Fuck. His courage was dissipating. He wiped his palms on his pants, worrying the sweat might affect his guitar playing. He wouldn’t know - he’d never been this nervous before a solo before. The sweaty palms were a new sensation.

_You can do this._  He steeled himself and placed his hands on his guitar. And then he heard her voice, cheering loudly above the others, and he couldn’t even bring himself to look up. 

“This one is for…"

He breathed deeply.  _I don’t get why you don’t just say her name._  Her voice flowed in one ear and out the other and he couldn’t do it.

“This one is for her."

And he started to play, his voice shaking with nerves.

_I never thought that this morning would ever come_  
_Over mountains, through doors, we have always won_  
_Laid bare, we've shared every shadowy heart_

As he sang, he relaxed into the music, feeling every lyric with every heartbeat and every thought of _Mor, Mor, Mor._  He was singing for a reason, and he wasn’t going to fuck this up completely, not tonight. No. Azriel thought of her smile earlier, the way she looked like she had put even more effort than usual into her beautiful appearance tonight, and that loud cheer of encouragement.

There was a chance. That’s all he needed. For her, he’d take his chances.

_I’ve played out this scene oh so many nights_  
_And for a moment, we are timeless_  
_Bare feet in the grass with your dandelion hair_  
_And no, I am not scared_

And somehow… he didn’t feel scared. He meant every word of these lyrics. This was a night he’d waited for for what seemed like centuries. He found himself hoping Mor had caught the direct allusion to her instead of hoping she would pretend not to notice.

_If there’s one in a lifetime_  
_There is no doubt in my mind_  
_Feel the earth as it moves_  
_As I stand here with you_

As the lyrics flowed out of his mouth and into the bar, Azriel felt a weight already lifting from his chest, and a surge of confidence hit him. He may not have said her name, but he could still make it known just who he was singing to.

He made a split second decision. Azriel looked up to where he knew Mor would be sitting to make eye contact with those gorgeous brown eyes.

_As your eyes meet with my eyes..._

And he met different brown eyes. Duller, without the usual sparkle, much more doe-eyed. He realized he wasn’t looking at Mor, but at Elain, and that she was sitting in Mor’s usual seat at the table, Mor directly beside her.

But it was too late. The mishap had thrown him off, and he looked back down at his hands on his guitar almost as quickly as he had glanced up.  _Fuck._

_Beautiful in the sunlight_  
_Breathe into me, feel the earth_  
_As your heart beats faster, my heart beats faster_

Azriel kept singing, a little spaced out for the next verse. Had she seen him look at another girl? _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Could he save it? He would be damned if he didn’t try.

At the last chorus, he again looked up during the lyric, _As your eyes meet with my eyes_ , but Mor was no longer at the table. He simply found himself looking at an empty chair.

His heart fell. Mor was notorious for staying in her seat right at the front to support him every time he sang a solo. He couldn’t remember a single time she hadn’t been there, smiling that infuriatingly encouraging smile up at him and he sang his heart out to her without her knowing. He did not look back at his guitar for the whole song, hoping she’d somehow reappear there and make him feel like less of an idiot.

She didn’t.

Azriel hardly registered the last few songs, and he was thankful to have sang his solo toward the end tonight. He might still be able to save this, but only if he found Mor.

They finished the set, and Azriel tried his best to shorten his interactions with the crowd even more than usual as the boys jumped down from the stage and were immediately bombarded. Cassian managed to entertain a large group of them, making himself useful, and Rhys immediately found Feyre bounding through the crowd to embrace him. Azriel had a clear path to where he finally spotted her at the bar.

She cradled a drink in her hand, one finger moving absently on the glass, and she was already looking at him when he met her gaze. And, gods, the smile she gave him wrecked him so thoroughly that he stopped walking for a moment and just let himself look at her.

He was more than a little annoyed when a hand found his wrist and tugged gently, and the short moment of distraction made him lose sight of Mor in the crowd. Azriel turned to find Elain standing beside him, smiling knowingly, and Azriel softened his annoyed expression if only for Feyre and Nesta’s sake.

“You must be Elain,” Azriel said, and she nodded. “It’s great to meet you, but I have to-"

“I was sitting in Mor’s usual seat, wasn’t I?” Elain blurted, catching Azriel off guard. She still hadn’t let go of his wrist, and seemed to notice it then, because she let go quickly. “That’s why you looked at me."

Azriel nodded.

Elain tilted her head and looked at him quizzically. “There was a look that my fiancé, Lucien, gave me right before he told me he loved me for the first time,” she said. “I’d know that look anywhere. And Mor had that look tonight as she watched you sing, Azriel. There’s no way she doesn’t love you as much as you love her."

Of all the things his friends had told him these last few months - to give it a chance, to reach out and see what might happen, that he might be surprised - no one had ever said anything like what Elain had just told him. No one had wanted to get his hopes up, just in case, and no one even knew how Mor felt about him for certain. But for some reason, he believed Feyre’s sister, he knew that no one would say this if she didn’t herself believe it. So, despite himself, Azriel smiled, the smile he reserved only for how Mor made him feel, and Elain gave him an encouraging smile back. “Go find her, Azriel. It was nice to meet you too."

His heart full and his hopes high, Azriel turned toward the bar again. As the crowd thinned, his heart pounded, not knowing exactly what he would do when he reached her seat at the bar, only knowing that maybe, _maybe_ , she felt something for him, that this night wasn’t going to be a failure after all...

Until she wasn’t at the bar. She wasn’t anywhere. Rita’s felt like a gust of icy wind had broken down all the windows and taken his heart with it when he searched the entire bar and she was nowhere to be found.

He found Feyre and Rhys at a table and both looked at him like they were seeing a ghost. “Have you seen Mor?” he asked, not caring if they were going to tease him. He was genuinely worried now.

“Uh, last I checked, she was looking for you,” Feyre narrowed her eyes and lifted up from where she sat on Rhysand’s lap, looking around the bar for her friend. “What the hell, Mor,” she whispered under her breath as she stood up. “I’ll go check the bathroom."

Feyre scurried off and Azriel sat down hard in the seat across from Rhys, his brother only giving him a concerned look. He was thankful, again, for the silence, but a part of him wanted to scream.

She wasn’t in the bathroom, and both Feyre and Nesta tried calling her to no avail. Azriel even tried her phone, and after it rang and went to voicemail several times, Nesta got one text saying simply, “I’m fine.” The phone started going straight to voicemail after that. Well, she was alive, at least.

“What in the hell happened?” Feyre groaned, frustrated. “I mean, she was upset earlier, but I thought she was fine when I left her-"

“Upset?” Azriel asked, lifting his head from where it was resting in his hands. “About what?"

Feyre hesitated, looking at Nesta momentarily. Her sister rolled her eyes and looked pointedly at her before Feyre looked back to Azriel. “You’re the only one who can fix this, Az. She just… she needs you."

“She won’t answer my calls,” Azriel protested half-heartedly, sitting back hard in his chair and almost hitting Cassian’s in the process. “And why does she need me?"

“Gods,” Nesta blurted, smacking her hand on the table. “Because she realized she’s in love with you and has no idea what to do about it, that’s why!"

“Nesta!” Feyre hissed, slapping her sister’s hand, but Nesta only groaned.

“If another person tries to avoid this conversation, I’m going to explode. I’m done. Go to our apartment and find her Azriel. I’ll find somewhere else to be tonight, okay?” Nesta pushed her chair back and stormed to the bar for another drink.

“And that’s my cue to make ‘somewhere else’ mean ‘my apartment’,” Cassian sighed, standing up and stretching. “I’ve got you, brother. Go get your girl."

Azriel ran a hand over his face, but stood up, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. He’d already fucked everything else up tonight. What more did he have to lose?

_Everything_ , a voice in his head said. _Everything_.

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Mor_

This place was way too crowded, and Mor needed a drink.

A very, very strong drink.

She leaned against the bar of Sidra, another club just down the street, and waited for the bartender to notice her. She wasn’t used to not getting served right away, like at Rita’s, but she also wasn’t going to cut in front of all of these regulars she didn’t know. So she waited, on edge, needing something to hold in her hands, needing something to burn her throat other than realization and emotion and the desperate need to cry.

Mor figured she could probably go home and do just that, but the thought of having to later face Nesta’s questioning made bile rise in her throat. Not to mention that Elain was staying at their apartment… and there was a genuine possibility that she could come home with Azriel...

The bartender looked to her, finally, and she swallowed hard and ordered a shot and a drink. She threw back the liquor quickly, wincing as it went down, and leaned over the bar to sip her drink.

The Sidra, Mor thought later, was not too bad of a bar. The bartender ended up taking good care of her, refilling her drink within moments of her finishing. Once Mor was sufficiently buzzed, she threw herself onto the dance floor, dancing with anyone and everyone and not caring about anything but the music. Drink after drink after drink and an hour later, Mor was dizzy drunk and found herself needing a break. She stumbled toward a booth in the corner and plopped herself down, her beer bottle clanging on the wooden table.

Moments later, as if he had been watching her, a tall man with rusty brown hair slid into the booth with her. She looked at him with glassy eyes and smiled, her drunken flirty nature kicking in. “Hello,” she slurred.

“Hello, gorgeous. What’s your name?"

Mor giggled and told him her name, hiccuping. “Morrigan. But you can call me Mor. Only my father calls me Morrigan."

The man tsked, tapping his ring on the table. “That won’t do. Mor,” he leaned forward, his russet eyes piercing hers with a predatory glare. “I’m Eris. Dance with me.”

Mor sipped her drink. “Okay, let me just finish-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Eris was up and grabbing her hand, pulling her out of the booth. Okay. She guessed she could dance a little more. Mor shook her dizziness away and followed him, the song already capturing her with its upbeat rhythm.

Mor danced with Eris for several songs, and he passed her another drink at around the second or third song. She knew she was already past her limit, but damn her if she thought she didn’t deserve to be a little sloppy tonight. With Azriel in mind, she chugged the drink in three sips and tossed the glass on a nearby table.

Eris wasn’t a terrible dancer, but he guided her moves too much, stepping around her and pressing himself against her when all she wanted was to dance freely to the music. He was nothing like Azriel, who danced so in sync with her after years of practice that it was almost like she was made to dance with him. _No,_ Mor thought. _Don’t think of Az right now. He’s not thinking of you._ So she continued to dance with Eris, whether out of spite or total lack of judgment.

After a particularly raunchy song, Eris suddenly pulled Mor toward the back wall of the dance floor. Uneasy on her feet, she almost tripped on another couple dancing. She really needed to sit down, and she hoped he had seen that (how could he not - she was a stumbling mess) and was leading her back to her booth.

But he didn’t - Eris pressed Mor against the wall and before she could stop him, his lips were on hers.

It took Mor a moment to register her disgust, that she did not want to be kissing this man, before she gently pushed him back with a hand to his chest. “What’s wrong?” he asked roughly as she stared blankly at him.

What _was_ wrong? They were just a guy and a girl in a bar. There was nothing wrong with needing a hook up after having your heart broken… but it didn’t feel right to her. She was too drunk, and too raw, and suddenly, she just wanted to go home. “I’m just,” she started, her words sounding muffled even to her, “really drunk. Want to go home."

“Mor, let’s finish what we started here first,” Eris cooed, and his lips were on hers again. She turned her head away abruptly, and his face contorted in rage. “Quit being a tease,” he snarled.

Mor pushed him off her, looking down at the floor and stumbling to the side as she began to walk toward the bathroom. She felt sick to her stomach. “Leave me alone,” she slurred, but Eris followed. Mor lifted her head only to bump into a solid mass of muscle, and she almost vomited right there when she looked into those hazel eyes she knew so well.

“Az?” Mor croaked, stepping back. “What are you doing here?"

Azriel ignored her and gently placed his hand on her shoulder as he walked around her, facing Eris. “You heard her,” Azriel said to him, his voice a deadly calm that pierced Mor’s heart. "She said to leave her alone."

“Az,” Mor turned around and put her hand on his arm, but Eris shook his head and walked away, fuming, before Azriel had the chance to get violent. Mor knew he could, to protect his friends.

He finally turned to her, his eyes melting from pure rage to concern. “Are you okay?” he said tightly, rubbing a thumb gently over her shoulder. Mor shrugged from his grip.

“I’m fine, Az. Shouldn’t you be at Rita’s?” she snapped, leaning against the wall for support. Gods, the room was spinning. And the bass of the music was making it worse. "I bet Elain is missing you."

“Mor,” he said softly, almost too soft for her to even hear. Azriel crossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably, like he was thinking about how to explain, how to apologize, but Mor cut him off.

“No, I get it,” she waved a hand dismissively, and didn’t realize how close it was to his face until he leaned back. "You two are perfect for each other, actually. You’re both deceptively sweet.” Her words were slurring terribly and her filter was non-existent, but she didn’t care. Mor lifted herself from the wall with some effort and made to walk away, but stumbled and Azriel, damn him, had to grab her arm to keep her from falling.

“Mor, you’re drunk,” he said, no judgment, just stating a fact. But she still was irritated, because she was irritated at him, and how he was acting like he cared. Her friends probably guilted him into coming out here to look for her.

“So?” she asked, leaning against the wall again and crossing her arms, looking up at his handsome face angrily. "Why shouldn’t I be?” Why did he have to _look_ at her like that? Why did she want to kiss him as much as she wanted to slap him? Why was he here anyway? Mor’s mind was screaming questions at her and she just wanted it to shut up so she could fill it with Azriel’s deep voice and nothing else.

“Let me walk you home. Please,” Azriel pleaded, rubbing his hands on his pants, again with those nervous sweaty hands. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

“Why did you smile at Elain?” Mor didn’t know why she kept bringing her up. Even drunk, she had a sense that she had made a mistake and Az being here had everything to do with her and nothing to do with the Archeron sister. But she had to know. “I saw you at Rita’s. You smiled at her like… like you smile at me. Only me."

Az looked taken aback, but shook his head, a smile threatening to break through his lips. Those enticing lips with a nearly unstoppable gravitational pull. It was infuriating. But that almost smile was almost enough to convince Mor that Azriel was happy at what she’d just practically admitted. That Mor liked that he had a smile reserved only for her. That she wanted it to stay that way.

“Mor,” he said. "I can’t have this discussion with you while you’re drunk.” He held out his hand for her, but when she didn’t take it, he dropped it and that shadow of a smile disappeared. Mor found that she was disappointed when it did. “But you know very well that’s not why I’m here."

“No, Az, I don't know. Why are you here?” She needed to get him to say it. She wouldn’t believe it until he said it.

“Mor-“

“No, I need to hear you say it, Az, because I’m starting to think you never will. Why did you come here? Why did you come find me?"

He paused for a long moment, then said, “Because you left upset. And I was worried."

Mor huffed a laugh. “I don’t think that’s entirely the truth.” She knew that the alcohol was still raging in her bloodstream, but being on the edge of this conversation sobered her somewhat. "What are you so afraid of, Az?"

He paused again, something flaring in his eyes that Mor hardly recognized. The pause was too long for her liking, and she was starting to think he wouldn’t even deign a response. Mor started walking away, but felt him gently grasp her arm, and he lead her around the corner to a quieter part of the bar. She looked at him expectantly.

“What do I have to be afraid of?” he growled, his voice full of emotion. "You, Mor. You terrify me. I walk on eggshells every day because I have these feelings, and you don’t, and I can’t decide if it’s worth ruining what we have just to take a chance."

 _You don’t_. Did he really think that, after all this? After everything they had been through together? “You have no idea what I feel, Az."

He looked down at his feet. “I know that if you feel anything, it’s a new realization,” he responded in a small voice. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, Mor."

Mor shook her head. “You really have no idea."

“I’ve been trying for so long, Mor,” Azriel sighed, frustrated. “And you’ve only ever seen me as your friend."

“How have you been ‘trying' when you let me believe, week after week, that you were singing to other girls on that stage?” Mor demanded, tears rolling down her face. “I’ve been thinking you were happy with all the other pretty girls, that you thought of _me_ as just your friend. Did you ever think that maybe that contributed to me repressing my own feelings?” Mor wiped at her eyes as someone walked by, looking at her with pity. She could feel her mascara running. She didn’t care if she looked like a crazy crying drunk girl, since she was, but she had the sudden urge to leave and not continue this conversation. Her heart couldn’t take it.

After a long pause, she whispered, “Why can’t you just say my name on that stage? Why can't you tell me right now, when we’re alone, how you feel about me?"

“Because,” he said, and stopped. Was he really not going to tell her? Because she was drunk? Bullshit. There was something else here, and Mor knew what it was, because she was his gods damned best friend. And, though she would regret it later, she cut all the strings on her self restraint. She was hurting too much.

“Because, Az,” she said matter-of-factly, and he finally lifted his head to look at her again. “You don’t think you’re worth anything to me. To anyone. And I don’t know why, because you’re worth so much more than you know, but you need to accept yourself before you can let anyone in."

“And you don’t need to do the same?” he asked, incredulous, surprising Mor with the intensity of his question. She blinked as he continued. “Mor, you give friendship and kindness so freely, but you can’t do the same with your heart. If my heart is guarded, yours is caged. At least I’m trying to bear mine when I get on that stage. You tell everyone else to follow their hearts, you tell Nesta and Cassian and Feyre and Rhysand - but you can’t take your own advice."

His words were like icy shards hitting her heart. Because it was _him_ saying the words, her best friend, the one person whose thoughts about her she actually cared about… and this is what he thought? That she had a caged heart? She looked down and let out a small sob. “Maybe it should stay that way."

“Maybe,” he responded. Mor’s stomach suddenly lurched, and she turned to the side and vomited promptly into the nearby trashcan. Azriel was there in a moment, holding her hair, but as soon as she finished, he stepped away, his head in his hands.

“I didn’t want to have this conversation here-"

“Just take me home, Az. Please.” Mor needed her bed and two aspirin, and she couldn’t think about this, about him, for another moment longer.

They walked in silence, neither of them saying a word, until they got to Mor’s apartment. Mor went to unlock the door, assuming they weren’t speaking, when Azriel spoke just loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m sorry."

She waited for more, and when he didn’t offer any more, she slipped the key into the lock and said only, “Me too,” opening the door and shutting it behind her. She broke into sobs the moment she walked into the living room, and since no one was home, she didn’t stop for a long while.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will be three more chapters after this. I want to end with a Mor POV. Enjoy Az's POV of their fight (or not) (I didn't) (I'm not crying)

_Azriel_

Azriel was halfway down the block from Rita’s, walking toward Mor’s apartment, before he realized she probably wouldn’t be there.

Mor was upset, but it was still early. There was no way she would go sit at home by herself on a Saturday night before midnight. If Azriel knew anything, it was that when Mor was upset, she needed to do two things: drink and dance.

So, he turned on his heel and began his search through the many, many bars in their city, where Mor would think no one would know to look for her.

But Azriel knew. Of course he knew.

_Gods_ , Azriel rubbed his palms together angrily as the cold wind sliced at his calloused hands. He had no idea how this had escalated so quickly. One minute she had been looking at him from across the bar, with that perfect, beautiful smile, and the next, she was gone. He honestly didn’t know what changed in the maybe 45 seconds between her smile and him arriving at her empty seat at the bar.

Feyre and Nesta seemed to know something was up, though. He replayed their comments in his head as he poked his head into a few bars, knowing that most of them weren’t Mor’s scene, but making sure he was thorough in his search.

_She was looking for you._ Fine, Mor was always looking for Azriel, so they could dance together. Normal behavior.

_You’re the only one who can fix this Az. She needs you._ She probably just needed her best friend. For whatever she was upset about.

_She’s in love with you._

That… that he couldn’t reconcile. Even if she felt something for him, if she was willing to give him a chance, she definitely wasn’t _in love_ with him. No, that was his problem, loving her from afar and holding onto the desperate hope that one day, far in the future, she might feel the same. That wasn’t now.

But if anyone knew Mor as much as Azriel did, it was Nesta.

And Elain had said it too, and he’d foolishly, for a moment, let himself believe her: _There’s no way she doesn’t love you._

He was so stupid. If Nesta and Elain were right, this was all a huge misunderstanding. None of this would have happened if Mor had just sat in her normal seat, if Elain hadn’t been there instead -

No, this wasn’t Mor’s fault. He should’ve just said her gods damned name like he planned. But he couldn’t do it. Something in him felt like the whole bar would’ve broke into laughter, scoffing, at the prospect of him with a beauty, a goddess like Mor.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he cared what they thought. But maybe it was because he expected Mor to have a similar reaction. She so clearly thought he was singing to every other girl in that bar, all who were nothing compared to her. She’d probably never even considered the possibility that Azriel would have the nerve to sing about her. She’d certainly never hoped for it, maybe until tonight, for whatever reason. Regardless, he wasn’t worthy of her and it was clear as day, and he’d be a fool to think he was.

But Nesta’s words vibrated in his head like his bass during a show - _She’s in love with you, she’s in love with you, she’s in love with you._ The words filled him with equal hope and dread. If they were true, he’d fucked up. Royally. If they weren’t true, well. He was very well about to make an ass of himself. He’d be better off playing it safe and just helping Mor get home safe. Letting her vent. Giving her space to talk about whatever she was upset about.

Azriel spotted a clubby-looking bar at the corner called Sidra, and, hearing the music coming from within, knew instinctively that Mor was in there. He could almost see her eyes lighting up at this discovery and the music pulling her in, and he smiled despite himself.

After paying a ridiculous cover charge, Azriel strolled into the bar area, frowning. It was absolutely packed in here. He checked the bar first, finding it loaded with blondes, but none of them were his blonde. _She’s not yours,_ he reminded himself. He pushed through the crowds, most people stepping out of his path at the stern look on his face.

He surveyed the dance floor and the gyrating couples, thankful that the Illyrian Steppes had never played here. To him, this was a nightmare version of Rita’s, which made it all the more urgent that he make sure Mor was okay. He sunk into the shadows of the bar, watching, glaring at the bouncer eyeing him warily.

He saw her then, out of the corner of his eye. Gods, she was trashed, and she could barely walk. An auburn haired man was pulling her by the hand, not slowing when Mor nearly tripped. Before she could even right herself, the man was pushing her against the wall and pressing his lips to hers.

Azriel’s entire body froze and heated at the same time. He normally wasn’t the jealous type - he and Mor both had their fair share of hookups over the years and he’d never interfered. It usually felt like a sinking hit to his gut, but never anything like this.

Who was this prick, forcing himself on her, when she was clearly too drunk to even stand? Az fumed as he watched Mor push him back and saw the man snarl something at her and kiss her again. That was enough. Azriel pushed himself off the wall and crossed the short distance to them, staying in the shadows.

Mor pushed him again and stumbled out from under his grip, slurring as she called back to him. “Leave me alone,” she said and the pict decided to dig his grave even deeper as he began to pursue her. It was then that Azriel, blind with rage, stepped out of the shadows, colliding with Mor in her escape. She looked up at him with eyes full of fear, and his heart nearly broke as he watched her face soften at her recognition.

“Az? What are you doing here?” she slurred, but Azriel was fixated on the approaching prick, who looked like he wanted to start a fight. Azriel sidestepped Mor gently, his hand on her shoulder to steady her, and pulled himself up to his full height.

He faced the man, sending daggers into his predatory gaze. “You heard her,” he said, more calmly than he felt, and balled his free hand into a fist. “She said to leave her alone."

Mor placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Az,” she said, but he continued to stare at the pict he wanted to blow into pieces. Fortunately for him, the man turned on his heel and decided not to prod Az any further. If Azriel ever saw him again, he didn’t know if he would be able to keep his composure so well. But he did it here and now, for her, because he knew she just needed to go home.

Azriel turned around, his anger subsiding, and took in those caramel brown eyes with his hazel ones. “Are you okay?” he said softly. She was shaking, and he stroked a thumb over her shoulder in reassurance. However, Mor shrugged away, falling back against the wall and knitting her eyebrows together.

“I’m fine Az,” she snapped. He moved a step toward her to make sure the wall held her. “Shouldn’t you be at Rita’s? I bet Elain is missing you."

_Fuck_. So she _was_ upset about looking at Elain during his song. Oh, he was in such deep unending shit. “Mor,” he began, but he didn’t know how to continue. He rattled his brain for any time Mor had ever acted like this, any time she’d ever shown any jealousy… and he couldn’t find a single instance. What had changed? _She’s in love with you._ His brain repeated it over and over but he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It was impossible. Maybe she was mad because he was here and not at Rita’s with the girl she thought he’d been singing to? That he was blowing it?

Mor interrupted his swirling thoughts abruptly. “No, I get it,” she snipped. She waved her hand in front of her, nearly slapping his face, and he leaned away. “You two are perfect for each other, actually. You’re both deceptively sweet,” she slurred.

Mor was way too drunk for him to even begin to address the falsity of that statement, as much as he needed to, as much as he wanted to gather her in his arms and tell her. _It’s you, it’s always been you, I love you._ Now was not the time for that. And even if she thought she wanted him now, drunk, as their friends so insisted… there was no way that she’d still feel that way in the morning, when she was sober enough to realize Azriel was just, well, Azriel. Her best friend. Nothing more.

She began to walk away, and despite his better judgment, he reached out for her arm, helping her steady herself as she stumbled. “Mor, you’re drunk,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“So? Why shouldn’t I be?” She pouted as she leaned back against the wall again, crossing her arms, and Azriel wanted to kiss the frown away from her lips. Of course, he didn’t let himself do that. He just looked at her, concern lacing his features, trying to plan his next move so as not to cause total destruction.

“Let me walk you home,” he pleaded gently. “Please.” Gods, he hoped this conversation ended here. He rubbed his hands on his jeans and caught her watching.

Mor dipped her head down toward her chest. “Why,” she asked, “did you smile at Elain?” She paused, blinking slowly, and looked back into his eyes. “I saw you at Rita’s. You smiled at her like… like you smile at me.” Mor pursed her lips before finishing, “Only me."

He tried to mask his surprise, but somehow he knew it was written all over his face. _I think you’d be surprised._ Azriel knew Mor could never love him… but the jealously in her statement was loud and clear. She wanted him to smile at her. For her. _Only_ for her. And she’d seen him talking to Elain in the crowd, when she’d pulled him aside after he’d locked eyes with Mor, and he’d smiled when she’d said that she believed Mor loved him...

Azriel damn near smiled again at that thought. But he could not address that now. He couldn’t tell her that he’d smiled _because_ of her, because of what Elain said, when she was angry and half-paying attention and wouldn’t believe him and would reject him, not that she wouldn’t anyway-

He shut his brain off again. “Mor, I can’t have this discussion with you while you’re drunk,” he said, holding out a hand for her. She didn’t budge, so he decided he had to. A little. “But you know very well that’s not why I’m here."

Mor creased her eyebrows. “Why are you here then?"

She was baiting him, damn her, and he just wished it was tomorrow so he could let the dust settle and have a rational conversation. “Mor-"

“No,” she cut him off. Her voice wasn’t slurring anymore, but it was cracking with emotion. "I need to hear you say it, Az, because I’m starting to think you never will. Why did you come here? Why did you come find me?"

_Because I love you. Because I need you._ “Because you left upset,” he hated himself as he said the words. Safe words. Careful words that would get him nowhere but would get her home safely. “And I was worried."

When she laughed, his heart turned to ice. “I don’t think that’s entirely the truth.”

She could always read right through him. His head throbbed with the stress of having this conversation in a dirty, loud bar, when all he wanted was to go somewhere, anywhere else, and then maybe they could talk about this.

Then, she whispered in a quiet voice, "What are you so afraid of, Az?"

Rejection. Not being enough for her. Losing his best friend. Truthfully, he began to realize, he was so fucking afraid of fucking this all up that it threatened to explode the surface of his self control.

And he was fucking it up. He should never have sang that song, he should never have let himself get his hopes up, he should never have followed her here.

But as she turned again to walk away, his instincts forced him to grasp her arm again, and he pulled her around the corner where the horrible music in this dump wouldn’t make his head hurt more than it already did. Mor raised an eyebrow at him. Waiting. And he burst.

“What do I have to be afraid of?” Azriel let out a frustrated snarl. "You, Mor. You terrify me.” Her other eyebrow raised in surprise, but he dug himself deeper. "I walk on eggshells every day because I have these feelings, and you don’t, and I can’t decide if it’s worth ruining what we have just to take a chance."

At this, she looked hurt, and he wanted to curse himself. He needed to keep his mouth shut. “You have no idea what I feel, Az."

Not wanting her to see the hurt on his own face, he looked a the floor, finding his shoes particularly interesting in that moment. “I know,” he said quietly, “that if you feel anything, it’s a new realization.” He sighed, resigning himself to the fate of having this, the most important discussion of his life, in a bar with a girl who could barely stand and who looked at him like she hated him at the moment. “I’ve felt this way for a long time, Mor. "

“You really have no idea,” she managed, shaking her head, tears filling those perfect brown eyes.

He sighed again. “I’ve been trying for so long, Mor, and you’ve only ever seen me as your friend.” _Just rip all of your safety nets, Az_ , he thought. _You won’t regret this later, or anything._ He repressed his internal snort of sarcasm.

Suddenly, Mor exploded. “How have you been ‘trying' when you let me believe, week after week, that you were singing to other girls on that stage?” Mor yelled, likely not realizing how loud she was being. “I’ve been thinking you were happy with all the other pretty girls, that you thought of _me_ as just your friend. Did you ever think that maybe that contributed to me repressing my own feelings?”

No, actually, he hadn’t considered that, but he highly doubted it was true. It was probably just a declaration in the heat of an argument. She had every right to be frustrated, of course, but if she’d truly felt anything all this time… why had she encouraged him night after night to go for it with other girls?

A small voice in the back of his head told him it was because she just wanted him to be happy, that maybe she felt, for some incredible reason, that _she_ wasn’t worthy of _him_ , but he pushed that thought far, far down.

Mor sniffed, and Azriel realized she was crying. He damn near reached out and pulled her close to him when she whispered, "Why can’t you just say my name on that stage? Why can't you can’t tell me right now, when we’re alone, how you feel about me?"

Gods, he wanted to. But this moment felt wrong, this situation felt wrong, everything felt wrong. He could already taste her rejection in his mouth. “Because,” he said, stopping, because there weren’t words to express his concerns. Anything he said would incriminate him or otherwise chase her away, and he’d already crossed that line tonight.

“Because, Az.” She spat his name like it tasted bad, and he looked up to find her face streaked with tears, mascara, and complete disappointment. In him. "You don’t think you’re worth anything to me. To anyone. And I don’t know why, because you’re worth so much more than you know, but you need to accept yourself before you can let anyone in."

The words hit him like a brick. She knew him, more than anyone knew him, but to turn his greatest insecurities against him broke his heart in two pieces. Was that what she was holding back for? Because he needed to accept himself? She’d have to wait five centuries if that was the case.

And she would, if it was possible. Mor safeguarded her heart so closely, and at least he’d been taking a chance, all these months. Using his insecurity against him made him so angry that he regretted his next words before he even said them.

“And you don’t need to do the same?” He spat the words, and Mor’s eyes widened. “Mor, you give friendship and kindness so freely, but you can’t do the same with your heart. If my heart is guarded, yours is caged. At least I’m trying to bear mine when I get on that stage. You tell everyone else to follow their hearts, you tell Nesta and Cassian and Feyre and Rhysand - but you can’t take your own advice."

Mor began to sob and Azriel hated himself so furiously that it took everything in him not to punch a wall. “Maybe it should stay that way,” she choked out.

“Maybe."

And then she was running for the trash can, and as she vomited into it, instinct guided Azriel to help her. He gently fisted her blonde curls in his hands, rubbing smooth circles on her back until she was finished.

Nothing about this night had gone as planned, and now he had even failed to get Mor safely home to water and the comfort of her own bathroom to get sick in. He rubbed his temples as Mor faced him, wiping her mouth gently on her sleeve.

“I didn’t want to have this conversation here,” he began, but Mor held up a hand.

“Just take me home, Az. Please."

Azriel guided her to the door and grabbed a few napkins from a table before they left, in case she got sick on the way home. They walked in silence, a physical and emotional distance between them, and Azriel worked the conversation over and over in his mind, trying to decide how it could have gone differently. Trying to find ways to fix this. Regretting absolutely every word he had said. They stepped up to Mor’s apartment and Azriel stopped, knowing he should say something, anything, but he didn’t trust himself. So he only said, “I’m sorry."

Mor paused, back to him as she slipped the key in the lock, and simply mumbled, “Me too,” before shutting the door behind her.

Azriel stood in front of her apartment for a few moments, dumbstruck, hopeless, and contemplated going in. Elaborating. Telling her everything. But he’d done enough for one night, so he walked home, cursing the day he decided to write that first song for her, and trying to imagine a world without his best friend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait everyone! midterms :/  
> two more chapters after this one :)

_Mor_

Mor was only ever a light sleeper after a night of heavy drinking. So when Nesta returned the next morning, shutting the door quietly behind her, Mor was instantly awake.

She lifted her aching head from the couch, where she had fallen asleep, and cursed herself for those last three drinks. “Well,” she cooed, hearing Nesta stop in her tracks. “Where were you last night?”

Nesta huffed a sigh, resigned to being caught, and walked over to sit on the arm of the couch. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said matter-of-factly, running a hand absent-mindedly through her messy golden brown hair.

Mor opened her eyes, the light blinding them, and squinted at Nesta. Her head throbbed harder. “I can’t remember anything at the moment. At least I came home last night. And I asked first. Spill."

Nesta sighed again and ripped her gaze from Mor’s, inspecting her fingernails. “I slept at someone else’s house."

Mor’s ears instantly perked. “You slept at Cassian’s."

She could see the red beginning to tint Nesta’s cheeks. “Does it matter whose house it was?"

“Yes!” Mor sat up abruptly, her tangled blonde hair falling over her face and her head screaming at her for the sudden movement. “Nesta! Of course it matters, especially if it’s Cassian."

Nesta waved a hand at her dismissively, signaling that the conversation was over. Mor thought it was far from over, but Nesta spoke before she could open her mouth. “Your turn. Where did you go last night? Why are you on the couch looking like death incarnate?” She paused, looking around their living room briefly. “Is Azriel here?"

Azriel? Why would Azriel-

Mor slammed her head on the back of the couch as the memories of last night flooded back. Of their argument, of the things said and almost said and not said-

She groaned, and Nesta raised an eyebrow at her. “No, Azriel isn’t here,” she mumbled. Nesta only continued to stare right through her, so Mor launched into the story, remembering the worst parts as she went along and feeling absolutely sick to her stomach. When she finished, Nesta was shaking her head, her mouth forming a thin line.

“You’re an idiot,” she snapped, grabbing Mor’s shoulders and shaking her. The sudden jolt made Mor feel even more nauseated, and she shut her eyes to compose herself. “Besides, Elain is engaged, you prick."

 _Of-fucking-course_. Mor cursed, shrugging Nesta’s hands away and pulling her blanket over her more tightly. “Where is she?"

“With Feyre. She stayed on Rhysand’s couch,” Nesta told her, and Mor felt like absolute shit. She buried her face in her hands as Nesta slid from the arm of the couch onto the cushion, stealing half of the blanket from Mor. “But she’ll be coming back here later, I’m sure."

“I should apologize,” Mor said into her hands.

Nesta scoffed, making Mor look up. “She’s not the one you should be worrying about. Honestly, Mor, you and Azriel are both idiots. To me, this is clear as day. Just fucking admit it to each other already. Who cares who does it first, who cares how you say it and when?"

Mor smirked at her friend, whose cheeks were fully blushing now. “Sounds like someone had a good night?"

Nesta smiled. “You could say that."

Mor felt a twinge of jealousy, but shoved it down to appreciate the rare, genuine happiness she saw on Nesta’s face. “Tell me over breakfast, I need something sweet and full of carbs right now."

\-----

Mor felt like she was at a standstill. She wasn’t sure if she was mad at Azriel, or if he was mad at her, or where exactly they stood now that their feelings had kind-of sort-of come out in the open in the ugliest possible way. She cursed every ounce of liquor she consumed that night and cursed Az even more for driving her to feel so unhinged.

His words were ringing in her head, pounding against her temple, consuming her every thought: _If my heart is guarded, yours is caged._ He was right. She never let anyone get close enough to get under her skin, and even if she did, she pushed her true feelings far, far away. It made no sense, in hindsight, thinking about the way that Az looked only at her, the way he danced only with her, and the way he set aside anything and everything only for her. She was stupid not to recognize it, and now she was too late. She’d pushed him too hard and he’d realized just how reluctant she was to follow her heart.

And, despite how angry she was with herself, Mor was still sitting on this couch and avoiding the problem because she was so scared to have her heart broken.

She was clutching her phone, staring at it, contemplating texting him, when Feyre barged through the front door and startled her so badly her phone fell onto the floor.

“What’s got you so jumpy? Rough night?” Feyre quipped as Rhys and Elain filed in behind her. Mor threw a pillow at her and Rhys caught it, giving her an incredulous look when he took in her still un-showered hair and the inevitable puffiness of her eyes. Mor just shook her head, and turned to Elain.

“Listen,” she started. “About last night-"

Elain held up a gentle hand and smiled. “Don’t apologize, Mor. It was a misunderstanding. I’m the one that’s sorry."

Mor blew a stray blonde hair out of her face. “I don’t usually get that drunk. I’m still sorry that you had to sleep on Rhysand’s couch. I know from experience how uncomfortable it is."

“Says the one who slept on our own couch last night with three empty beds in the apartment!” Nesta called from the other room. Mor could almost feel her face pale as Nesta inevitably realized her slip.

Feyre ran into the other room yelling, “Excuse me, how many beds?” Before her words were muffled behind a slammed bedroom door. Mor slumped back into the couch and picked up her phone. No new texts.

“We’re going to lunch,” Rhys told her, sitting at the dining room table as Elain took the other sofa. “If you’d like to make yourself presentable."

Mor felt her stomach tighten. “Will Az be there?"

Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Yes…” He leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you say that like you don’t want to see him? What happened last night?"

“He didn’t tell you.” It wasn’t a question. She knew, instinctively, that Az wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened. That he would pretend like it hadn’t happened, most likely. That he could just go on with his life after that was unsurprising, but also incredibly frustrating.

“No,” Rhys mused, and Mor knew he wanted to press for more, but would probably let Feyre do it for him after she was done harassing Nesta.

Mor adjusted her pillow and buried her face in it. “I’ll pass on lunch, thanks."

Rhys shrugged at the same time Feyre threw open the door around the corner and shuffled back into the living room, dragging Nesta behind her. “Mor, are you honestly going to miss the greatest Cassian roast of all time?"

“I don’t feel well,” Mor lied, not feeling like getting into it again. Nesta rolled her eyes and gave Feyre a look that told Mor that she’d already pre-informed her younger sister.

“Your loss. Let’s go everyone, an interesting lunch awaits!” she trilled, and stomped right out the front door with her sister in tow. Elain giggled softly and followed.

Rhys stood up from his chair and patted Mor on the shoulder once before turning to leave. He paused in the doorway, and Mor waited for a lecture, but he only sighed. “Whatever he did,” he said, his eyes softening to that cousin-ly expression. “I’m sure he’s kicking himself for it."

Mor gave him a half smile. “Take it easy on him, Rhys. I’m okay.” Her cousin nodded absently and shut the door behind him, leaving Mor to mope alone on the couch. She didn’t lie to herself about why she couldn’t stop checking her phone.

After an hour of torture consisting of seven snapchats from Feyre and at least twenty-five texts from Nesta complaining about the shit she was getting from the rest of their friends, Mor decided to finally get off her ass and shower, leaving her phone on silent on the sink for a long half-hour.

How was Azriel out with their friends right now? He had likely expected her to be there. Would he have acted like nothing had happened? Would he have tried to talk to her about it? Would they be awkwardly ignoring each other while all of their friends knitted their eyebrows together in confusion? Mor had no idea what she would do the next time she had to see him, and as much as she wanted to sort this all out, she was likely just going to follow his lead. Ignore it if he wanted to. Face it if he wanted to. The ball was in his park now, and if he wanted nothing to do with her, she would live with it. Somehow, she would live with it, as she had for years already. She and her caged heart would be fine. Safe.

Still, her chest ached at the thought of him moving on, singing to another girl, smiling at someone who would open her heart to him, while he and Mor went on with a forever damaged friendship. She let every thought float away with the shower water, down her face and down the drain.

When she finally turned off the faucet, she heard a sharp laugh come from the living room. It was followed by another familiar laugh, and she froze. That had been Cassian. Then Feyre. They were all here.

Azriel was probably here.

Mor cursed silently, ready to actually kill Nesta for letting them come here, when she saw three missed calls and several texts from her roommate, warning her that Feyre had insisted they all come over for Sunday dinner. Warning her to leave if she didn’t want to be there. Of course, these calls had come about one minute after Mor had gotten into the shower.

Sighing, Mor resigned herself to slipping into Feyre's room next to the bathroom and waiting it out when she realized she hadn’t brought any clothes into the bathroom with her. And of course, Feyre had next to no clothing here since she moved in with Rhys. She’d have to walk through the living room full of people with only a towel on.

Mor nodded to herself in the mirror, her mouth a thin line. It wasn’t like Azriel hadn’t seen her in a towel before. They all had. She hated getting dressed immediately after a shower. But now it felt weird.

“This is your fault, asshole. Just make a run for it,” she whispered to herself, wrapping a towel around her hair and another her body. The towel was so short, and was the last one in the cabinet. Mor cursed herself for not doing laundry, for being an idiot, for being born… and opened the bathroom door.

“…ten bucks that Rhys can’t go five minutes without looking at Feyre. Fight me,” she heard Cassian say, Elain giggling as Mor stepped into the living room. Everyone looked up. She, of course, met Azriel’s eyes immediately, and her entire heart fell through her stomach.

His face was impassive as he sat at the dining room table between Nesta and Rhysand, his scarred hands clenched together on the placemat. To all the world, this was typical Azriel, the silent but constant presence needed to balance the room.

But Mor could read his eyes better, she thought, than anyone, and she could see right through him. She saw that they were red. He hadn’t slept. She noticed his pupils dilate as he saw her standing at the threshold between the steamy bathroom and the living room, saw the torment in his facial features.

She just didn’t know what it meant.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, ripping her eyes away from Azriel and looking straight ahead as she shuffled through the room. “I’ll be out in five minutes."

Mor slammed her bedroom door shut behind her and leaned against it, her heart racing as she heard quiet conversation resume in the living room. She barely registered what she dressed herself in. She brushed her hair absently, thinking only of the hazel eyes just beyond that door that she could still feel watching her.

Was his emotion anger? Unease? Heartbreak? Something she was making up entirely? Mor had no idea, and she found herself not very eager to find out. But she’d already been in her room for far too long. She piled her long blonde hair into a bun and heaved a sigh before she opened the door and went back into the room with her friends.

Mor sat on the couch next to Feyre and looked at Nesta, who immediately threw her a look that said _What? I did warn you._ Feyre immediately started chatting with Mor and telling her all about their lunch, and Mor listened, laughing at the right times. But all she could think about were the eyes she felt on her, the unspoken words hanging in the air, the question that every single one of her friends was surely dying to ask right now.

But they didn’t. The Sunday afternoon proceeded without incident. While dinner felt like an eternity, with Mor sitting in her regular spot between Azriel and Nesta, Mor was thankful that most of the attention was fixed on her roommate, giving her an excuse to look in that direction. Azriel hardly said two words to her, and Mor knew he wouldn’t. Not there. Not in front of their friends.

Rhys and Feyre were the first down for the count when they fell asleep on the couch. Mor had relaxed a bit at this point, so the loss of two of their party didn’t unnerve her as much as she thought it would. However, when Elain went to bed in the guest room soon after, Mor panicked momentarily, and excused herself to the bathroom. When she has calmed herself down, she arrived back in the living room to see Nesta pulling Cassian into another room, leaving Azriel looking surprised on the sofa.

Leaving them alone.

Mor sighed and leaned against the wall. “Well,” she said, breaking the tension. She couldn’t very well leave him there when Nesta made it so obvious they had been left alone to talk. “That was an unexpected ambush."

To her surprise, Azriel laughed. “They tend to do that."

“Listen Az,” Mor said, managing to make eye contact with him. He looked about as uneasy as Mor felt. "I’m sorry about last night. I should probably lay off the alcohol for a bit.” She chucked to herself lightly.

“No, Mor, I’m sorry. I said a lot of things-"

“We both did, Az. Forget it. Let’s just-” She cleared her throat. “Let’s just forget it."

Azriel looked unsure, and for a moment, Mor thought he might say something else. But he nodded, standing up from the sofa. “Okay."

“Okay."

She walked over to him and hugged him to break the silence, and his arms around her felt simultaneously like exactly what she needed and exactly what she feared. Her heart raced with nerves and anticipation and exhilaration, a swirl of emotions from a simple hug, and Mor knew she was royally screwed. That she wouldn’t be able to live with it, with her heart forever locked in a cage beating for the only one brave enough to try to unleash it.

When he rubbed a hand on her back it felt like her lungs were constricting, and when he pulled away she almost whimpered. She wanted to tell him that she understood. She wanted to tell him that she knew exactly why he held back and that she did for the same reasons. She wanted to end this ordeal of dancing around each other, right there and right then. But she could hear Feyre and Rhys softly breathing on the couch, and Nesta and Cassian talking in the other room, and she knew it wasn’t the moment. She could see in his eyes that he felt the same.

So when Azriel picked up his coat and left, Mor didn’t stop him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK AND READY TO FINISH THIS FIC
> 
> thank you so so so so so (*insert a million more here*) much those who left me encouraging comments telling me you wanted to see this fic through until the end. it really, truly inspired me to work through the writer's block. this chapter is for all of you <3

_Azriel_

When Cassian came barging into his apartment that morning, loudly boasting about how he had finally hooked up with Nesta Archeron, Azriel had already been awake for hours. He had barely slept at all, in fact, so he’d resigned himself to his fate and gotten up at dawn to go to the gym. In severe contrast to Azriel’s showered, clean presence, Cassian looked like he had just rolled out of bed in his eagerness to share his news with his best friend.

Azriel clapped his friend on the back and listened to him tell the story of how he’d gotten Nesta to come home with him, but at the same time, he felt an ache in his stomach.

Cassian seemed to notice this, and leaned forward in his chair, raising his eyebrow. “You look like hell, by the way. What happened with Mor?” Cassian said casually, and Azriel frowned. Hesitant at first, he eventually told Cassian generally what happened, leaving out the more personal details of their conversation. He realized halfway through his story just how much of an idiot he was.

“Shit,” Cassian muttered, standing up. “You need to make this right, brother. The sooner, the better. Come on, we’re going to lunch with everyone."

Azriel shook his head. “I don’t think she wants to see me-"

Cassian put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him up from the couch. He turned Azriel to face him, and put the other hand on his other shoulder, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want to fuck this up more than you already have?” he asked, shaking him gently.

“No…"

“Then just fucking listen to me, for once in your life,” Cassian continued. “You say you regret everything you said last night. So say something different. Tell her. As soon as possible. Today. Before you miss your chance."

Azriel didn’t want to have this conversation right now, or ever, so he simply nodded to get Cassian to release him. He followed him reluctantly out the door, knowing he probably wouldn’t have the courage to say anything but assuming his friends would be too hung up on Cassian and Nesta to have to.

But Mor didn’t come. Her absence was an unspoken elephant in the room, though Azriel could tell that every single person at the table knew exactly what had happened the night before. He had no idea what to make of that. Clearly she was feeling some sort of emotion about their fight if she had told Nesta and Feyre, who both kept giving him sly glances in an attempt to read him.

Was she avoiding him because she was angry? Because she regretted how their conversation had gone? Maybe because, as he had, she had said things she didn’t mean and couldn’t face him to tell him the truth? His mind was everywhere and his focus was far from the conversation of the group as he dwelled on every possible explanation for her absence.

Most of all, the guilt he had about their fight was eating him up inside. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Mor as upset as she had been last night, and it was all because of him. Somehow, every negative emotion he had about the conversation thinned down to that guilt, and all he wanted to do was apologize and make it up to her.

After thinking about the conversation all night, tossing and turning in his bed, he knew she had been right. He hadn’t fought for her or tried hard enough because he didn’t believe he had a chance, and even if she had thrown all of his insecurities in his face… she had still fought for him to tell her last night. She cared, despite his issues. And that was the one takeaway from their fight that told him… maybe he _did_ have a chance. If the fight hadn’t ruined everything, that is.

“Azriel?” Feyre saying his name pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see that everyone was watching him. Except for Nesta, who was returning to the table, texting furiously. He hadn’t even noticed that she had left.

He grunted in response to Feyre, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you hear what I said? We’re all going back to my place for Sunday dinner. Do you want Italian food or Mexican?"

He should have assumed he’d have to face Mor at some point today. Azriel didn’t want to ambush her, but he had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this dinner. And judging by Nesta’s sudden deep interest in her phone and the fact that Mor was the only one of her friends not present at the table, Mor would be forewarned. She would leave if she didn’t want to see him. He shrugged, defeated. “Italian, I guess."

“Okay, we need Mor to break the tie, then,” Feyre turned to Nesta and, realizing she wasn’t paying attention, sent the salt shaker spinning across the table at her sister. Nesta flinched as it hit the back of her phone and toppled over. Elain cringed as Nesta jerked her head up to glare at Feyre, a look of pure fire in her eyes. “Oi, Nesta, you can sext Cassian from across the table later. What does Mor want?"

Nesta scowled at her as the rest of the table erupted into laughter, including Cassian. She sent him a particularly sharp glance, shutting him up, before responding. “I’m texting Mor, brat. And I called her. She isn’t answering, but considering she is likely still hungover, Italian is probably fine."

“You’re only saying that because you want Italian,” Feyre scoffed, but accepted it nonetheless. “Mor _would_ want Italian. She always wants bread."

Every time one of them said her name, the air got thicker, and Azriel felt like he might melt into the shadows with all of the sideways glances Rhysand and Cassian were sending his way. He realized that he and Mor were going to have to talk about this and resolve the problem soon, probably today. If not for their own good, then for the good of the group.

\---------

Azriel found himself incredibly uncomfortable a half hour later, sitting at the dining room table between Nesta and Rhys, as he listened to the shower shut off. It had been running since they arrived a few minutes ago, and Azriel would venture to guess Mor had no idea any of them were there.

He tried not to listen for the creak of the opening bathroom door as it remained closed for one, two, and then five minutes, his heart in the pit of his stomach and his body in the shadows. As it was, Azriel had no idea what he would do, or what _she_ would do, when they were finally in the same room together. All he knew was that if he was going to talk to Mor today, it would not be in an apartment full of their friends.

Just as Cassian was taking the piss out of Rhys for his infatuation with Feyre, which Azriel thought was highly unfair given that his eyes hadn’t left Nesta for two seconds the whole day, Azriel heard the bathroom door open. He tensed when Mor entered the living room, looking utterly miserable and unlike her bubbly, friendly self, as her eyes immediately met his. The room went quiet.

He hardly registered the short towel she sported, as he might normally do, as he was too focused on the feeling of his chest cleaving in two. It felt like a century that her brown eyes were on him, but when she tore them away he longed for them to return. Mor mumbled a small apology as she shuffled to her bedroom. “I’ll be out in five minutes,” she murmured, and shut the door.

Cassian let out a low whistle, one so quiet that Mor wouldn’t have heard, and moved toward the dining room table to stand behind Nesta and pin his gaze on Azriel. "Good luck with that,” he whispered, and Azriel glared at him. Nesta reached back and punched Cassian in the arm, causing his friend to wince and smile at the same time. Azriel tore his gaze away and glanced toward Mor’s bedroom door fleetingly as normal conversation resumed in the living room.

Mor stayed in her bedroom for a long time, or so it felt. Her blatant avoidance tied his insides into knots. She was clearly frustrated with him, angry even, and Azriel wasn’t entirely sure he knew how to fix it. It seemed like a bad time to confess his feelings when it didn’t even seem like she wanted anything to do with him.

Sighing, Azriel realized he was going to have to tread very lightly tonight. He didn’t want to press her to talk to him if she didn’t want to, and he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home. He should just leave now, he knew, but his friends would never allow that, and he still felt strongly that he needed to apologize now or it would only get worse.

Before he could make any rash decisions, Mor emerged from her room, her blonde hair in a wet, messy bun on the top of her head. She walked swiftly past the table and sat down on the couch, looking at Nesta pointedly.

He should really, really leave.

But instead, he sat there and he watched her, watched the drop of water that fell from her bun down the side of her neck and made a tiny, wet spot on her collar, watched as she laughed at Feyre’s recounting of lunch without her smile reaching her eyes, watched her legs cross and uncross, cross and uncross, as they always did when she was nervous.

There was no opportunity for them to talk for a long time. He got the feeling that Mor also wanted to talk, however, when she took her regular seat beside him for dinner. Even though her attention was turned mostly to Nesta on her other side, Azriel could tell that she didn’t hate him, at least not entirely.

After dinner, Azriel felt his anxiety surge as the night came to a close, but he noticed that Mor was a bit more relaxed. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but as their party began to dwindle with Feyre and Rhys asleep on the couch and Elain trudging off to bed, negative thoughts began to consume him.

Mor excused herself to the bathroom a few moments after Elain left the room, and Azriel slumped onto the sofa to give himself a few moments of recluse. Cassian, however, had other plans, and raised an eyebrow mischievously at Azriel as he leaned in to whisper in Nesta’s ear. She turned bright red, but her eyes blazed with determination as she leapt out of her seat and grabbed Cassian’s hand, dragging him from the room...

…right as Mor came back.

Azriel tried and failed to hide the betrayal on his face. _Prick._

And suddenly they were alone.

To his surprise, Mor didn’t run. She slumped against the wall with a sigh that was almost a breathless laugh. “Well,” she said, “that was an unexpected ambush."

Like magic, her ease and her nonchalance lightened every tight feeling in his stomach and chest and he laughed. “They tend to do that,” he replied.

“Listen Az,” Mor said hurriedly, looking him in the eye now. He tried to read her facial expression, but it was as frantic as it was calm. She was a whirlwind, a storm sent to ravage his life, and he would never begin to understand how or why she had happened to him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she continued, chuckling. “I should probably lay off the alcohol a bit."

Azriel shook his head slightly, adjusting his stance. “No, Mor, I’m sorry,” he said. “I said a lot of things-"

“We both did, Az. Forget it. Let’s just-“ Mor coughed lightly, and Azriel felt his own throat tighten at the emotion in her voice. “Let’s just forget it."

As Azriel looked at her then, he knew. He knew that she had no intention of forgetting it. That she didn’t want to. And neither did he.

Both of them had said a lot of things last night, and many of those things were admissions. Truths that could not be taken back, feelings that could not be forgotten. Azriel already felt a new distance - and a new pull - between them, one that had been forged in insecurity and jealousy and heartbreak and he would be damned if he let his love for Morrigan be known to her in that way for any longer than he had to.

But he saw the pleading look in her eyes. Not now, not tonight, not with all of their friends listening and prying and forcing this reconciliation on them. No, Azriel would fix this, but he would do it on their terms, and he would do it right.

He nodded and stood from the sofa. “Okay."

Mor’s face instantly softened. “Okay,” she whispered, walked over to him, and wrapped her arms around him.

Azriel hugged her back instantly, savoring in the warmth of _her_ , heart racing against her cheek on his chest. He rubbed circles across her back, a question and a promise, and felt her lean into his touch. Breathing her in deeply, Azriel forced himself to pull away before he found himself unable to let go.

He left the apartment and went straight to his own, grabbed his guitar from where he’d left it by the front door, threw himself onto his favorite chair, and began writing.

\----

Azriel wrote all night, sleeping momentarily in the early hours of the morning, and then wrote all day. He wrote the next day, and the next, and the next. Song after lyric after feeling poured out of his heart and onto the paper, onto the strings of his guitar. He played until his fingers bled and he ran out of coffee and had to call Cassian to bring him more.

When Rhys and Cassian showed up Saturday afternoon to an unshaven, disheveled bandmate surrounded by sheets of paper and granola bar wrappers, neither of them knew exactly what to make of it.

Feyre walked in a few moments behind them with a coffee carrier in hand and nearly dropped it in shock. “You look like shit,” Rhys announced unceremoniously, throwing what Azriel assumed to be lunch in a paper bag down on the table in front of him. Cassian grunted in agreement as he took the coffee carrier from Feyre.

“Nice to see you too,” Azriel grumbled, staring at the notebook before him, now obstructed by the bag Rhys had placed there. He had been on the verge of finishing his fourth song that week - or was it the fifth? - and it was almost perfect, it just needed-

Feyre cut off his thoughts as she swiped the bag of food away and snatched away his notebook. Instinctively, Azriel reached for it, but Feyre danced just out of his reach. “He’s writing for Mor, no wonder he’s been off the grid,” she cooed, flipping through the pages, eyes widening as she saw just how much he’d written. Azriel slumped back in his chair, resigned to his fate as Feyre hummed contentedly, skimming the words in his notebook. When she finally looked up, she raised her brows at Rhys. “You’ve got some competition, Rhys. Even I’m swooning at these lyrics."

Before Rhys could retort, Cassian stepped in front of him. “Az, did you write all of that for tonight?"

“I did.” Azriel’s words were firm and unexpectedly confident, and his friends glanced at each other as he continued to speak. “You said it yourself. To tell her as soon as possible before I miss my chance. But I couldn’t just… she deserves it this way.” And she did. Mor deserved to have the part of him that was desperately trying to break out, the part that wanted the whole world to know how the words in his songs perfectly fit the girl he was looking at from across the room. She deserved what he’d been trying to do all along, deserved to know that those songs, every single one of them, were for her, and only her, and that it would always be _her_.

“That hasn’t changed,” Azriel added, holding his hand out to Feyre and she reluctantly gave back his notebook. He shut it and clutched it in his hands for a moment before setting it back on the coffee table. “The only thing that’s changed is the stakes. So I’m not going to entertain the idea of missing my chance, and I’m going to do this tonight. I have to… I have everything to lose."

Feyre placed a comforting hand on Azriel’s shoulder, giving him a light smile. He returned it momentarily, but all joy left his face when he looked to his brothers. Rhys’s lips were thin, his face pale, and Cassian looked - he looked nervous.

Cassian was never nervous.

“What,” Azriel said. Feyre sighed and squeezed his shoulder, looking to the other two men to answer the question. Rhys looked frustrated trying to form some semblance of an answer, but Azriel’s attention was wholly on Cassian, sweating and looking ready to burst with whatever secret he was hiding. “Tell me,” Azriel demanded.

Cassian ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Mor's not coming tonight."

Azriel didn’t breathe for a few moments. He was entirely still, and didn’t even flinch at the words thrown at him, the words that threatened to destroy him.

Because if she wasn’t coming...

If she didn’t want to be there...

Had he already - had he already missed his chance?

“She never misses a show,” he said when he found that small, deep voice somewhere inside him. No one responded, their heads all hung low, staring at the floor.

Every word, every lyric he had written became insignificant in that moment. Every feeling he had brought to life on the paper of his tattered notebook was mute if she didn’t want to hear him confess them.

He wanted to ask them why - why Mor wasn’t coming tonight, why she would miss a Saturday night Illyrian Steppes show, when she never had - but he knew that answer. As much as he hated it, he knew it.

He was too late. She didn’t want to hear him try to sing to her anymore, didn’t want to see him mess up again, didn’t want to subject herself to the disappointment.

Azriel had made Mor lose that faith in him, and it threatened to rip him open, to scatter the remains of his heart on the ground before him.

But...

Azriel had no intention of messing up. Not this time.

He grinned.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsie this is gonna still have another chapter :)

_Mor_

The blinding sunlight streaming into her bedroom windows on Saturday afternoon had Mor regretting her lack of coffee intake so far that day. Her head was positively throbbing. If she had any sense, she would walk the four feet to the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot.

But Mor had overstepped the limits of her sanity the moment she decided it was a good idea to listen to her power ballad playlist.

On repeat. For a week.

She just needed to feel something other than this strange anxious disappointment that had been sinking deep into her gut since last weekend. Some (Nesta) would probably call her ridiculous, but the music brought some of the real emotion to the surface to force her to face it.

Mor hadn’t talked to Azriel all week. She hadn’t seen him or texted him or even received a single snapchat. Not since Sunday, not since they agreed to a truce of sorts. In their parting, she had sensed that he was on the same page about talking through their feelings. Not here, not now, but… soon. What even _was_ soon? Had she misread the understanding in his eyes?

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe he really did just want to forget it, and go back to being friends.

But Mor couldn’t do that. This last week proved that - she’d spent most of her time laying on her bed and blasting Adele and Alicia Keys and songs from Broadway musicals. With every day she grew more restless and more morose, feeling too anxious to reach out to Azriel to try to start the conversation with him.

It had been a full week since their fight, and all she had to keep her from falling off the edge were a few hasty apologies, the memory of a hug (she could still feel the ghost of his hands on her back), and the promise of seeing him this weekend. But now, it was to the point that Mor was growing frustrated - angry even. And while she hadn’t made the effort to reach out either, she figured that Azriel would have by now. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to her at all.

 _Fine_ , Mor thought. She wasn’t going to be the one begging him to open up again. She’d done enough damage last Saturday. _And look what all my trouble has gotten me._

The playlist became progressively more angsty the last couple of days, resentful thoughts swirling endlessly in her head, and Mor soaked up the lyrics like a sponge as she tried not to listen for the vibration of her phone.

Just as she told herself she would listen to one more song before making coffee, Mor’s bedroom door swung open unceremoniously and banged against her wall, startling her as the song reached a climax. Nesta stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking like she was about to commit arson. Mor sighed and sat up to turn down her music.

“Are you done?” Nesta snapped.

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “What-"

"Mor, I swear to god, if I have to hear Burn from Hamilton blasting from your room one more time, I’m going to _burn_ your speakers."

Mor shut off said speakers entirely by way of yanking the power cord from the wall, and threw herself back into her pillows. “It could be worse, I guess,” she said. “I could be Eliza. Or, like, Taylor Swift. He could have cheated on me. I mean,” Mor paused, scoffing. “That would involve having been together in the first place-"

“Gods,” Nesta cut her off, stomping over to Mor’s bed and sitting down next to her. “Cut it out. This is pathetic. Get out of your pajamas and put a dress on, we’re going to Rita’s tonight."

Mor shook her head, mussing her already knotted blonde hair against her dirty sheets. “I’m going out with Amren tonight. I’m not going to Rita’s."

“Amren? But it’s Saturday, Mor…” Nesta said cautiously. “You never miss a show."

Mor pursed her lips. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there,” she replied, rolling off the bed and walking to her closet to pretend to search for an outfit.

Amren had been out of town for a while, and when Mor decided that she was sick of all of the friends that probably had been talking to Azriel all week, she decided to reach out to her short, feisty friend. To Mor’s delight, Amren was coming home this weekend and happened to be free that Saturday night.

Which also just so happened to be the exact night Mor would need a distraction from what was likely to be a solo-less, awkward Illyrian Steppes show. She didn’t think she could watch Azriel up there and not completely fall apart at the fact that he would never sing another song for her ever again. At the fact that she had completely and utterly missed every single opportunity she had to realize those songs were for her.

Mor looked over her shoulder at Nesta, who was still sitting on her bed looking uneasy, Mor was surprised to see. “What, Nesta?” Mor demanded.

“I just-“ Nesta ran a hand through her hair. “I guess I didn’t realize how bad this was."

“How bad what was? The fact that the second I realize I’m in love with my best friend and confess it to him drunkenly and to no avail, he disappears off the face of the earth? Yeah,” Mor spat bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s pretty bad."

Nesta leaned on her elbows and tipped her head back, releasing a frustrated sigh. “I doubt it’s what you think-"

“Nesta,” Mor’s voice cracked. “It is. I know Az, and he’ll avoid this conversation for eternity if he can. And I also know that he won’t budge unless he initiates it on his terms. So I can’t do anything, I’m stuck.” A tear rolled down her cheek and she angrily wiped it away. “And now - we’ve wasted so much time. I think it’s too late."

They were both quiet for a moment as Mor tried to blink away her tears. Nesta sat up and bit her lip as she stared at her hands. Eventually, she reached down to replug in Mor’s speakers, the music from Mor’s phone quietly playing from where the song had left off. Nesta stood and crossed the room, wrapping Mor in a hug.

She allowed herself to melt against her friend, her arms coming up to wrap around Nesta’s neck. “It must be really bad if you’re hugging me,” Mor mumbled into her shoulder. “You never hug anyone."

Mor expected a sarcastic comment, but instead Nesta sighed. “Please, Mor. You have to come tonight."

“I can’t,” Mor whispered. “I just… I need time."

Stepping back, Nesta unwrapped herself from Mor and nodded. She pursed her lips as if to say something else, but she decided against it and left Mor alone with her emotions and her music. The lyrics washed over her as she slumped against the wall, resting her forehead in her hands as the bridge melted into the chorus.

_I’m rereading the letters you wrote me,_  
_I’m searching and scanning for answers in every line,_  
_For some kind of sign of when you were mine,_  
_The world seemed to burn..._

Mor’s phone buzzed and she jumped, embarrassing herself with how quickly she bolted across the room to check it. Her heart sank when she saw the text was from Feyre.

 **Feyre:** _Mor. You can’t miss the show tonight._

Her throat released an audible scoff. Unbelievable. Nesta didn’t miss a beat.

 **Mor:** _Tell Rhys I’m sorry._

 **Feyre:** _And what about Az?_

Mor’s heart tumbled in her chest.

 **Mor:** _I doubt he cares._

 **Feyre:** _Mor, you’re being stupid. You have to come._

Feyre was never this insistent of Mor going anywhere. Of course, whenever she felt like bailing on plans, Feyre would try to convince her to change her mind but… she’d never call her stupid for it.

 **Mor:** _Why?_

It took her friend a few minutes to respond.

 **Feyre:** _I can’t tell you. You just have to._

Ah. So something was happening tonight, and no one felt any need to warn her. Knowing her friends, they were probably planning on forcing her and Azriel into a corner to talk it out like fighting children. Which was not at all how Mor wanted this to go down, and she was absolutely sure that Azriel would agree. She wondered if he knew anything about what their friends had in mind for the night.

Her lungs constricted as she tried to hone in her anger. She felt blindsided, and it only solidified her need to have a weekend away from her friends. If they had plans that required her presence, that was too bad. She was sick and tired of everyone around her planning out her personal business while she remained in the dark.

 **Mor:** _Whatever you’re planning, I don't have the energy for it, Feyre. I’m going out with Amren tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow._

She put her phone on silent and threw it into the abyss of her bedcovers.

And then Mor did what she always did to make her feel better - she got ready to dance.

\------

“Shit, I might have to steal that dress from you,” Amren said by way of greeting when she met Mor in town a few hours later. Mor gave a dramatic twirl, her silky, deep red skirt billowing in a neat halo around her legs.

White teeth gleamed behind matching lipstick as she flashed Amren a coy smile. Mor had chosen to dress up, wearing one of her favorite dresses and curling her hair to perfection. Maybe she’d find a distraction. And if not, at least the stares and the offers would boost her self esteem. Nesta hadn’t commented when Mor said goodbye and told her to have a good time at Cassian’s that night, earning a dishtowel thrown in her direction. But her roommate had definitely noticed Mor’s appearance, if her narrowed eyes were any indication.

She didn’t care if Nesta judged her. Look good, feel good, right?

If only that were true.

“As good as it is to see you Amren, that’s not gonna happen. This one is my favorite,” Mor replied with a wink, falling into step with her friend as they made their way to the stretch of popular bars and clubs. “Where are we going?"

Amren hummed, thumbing the rather flashy gold necklace that sat on her collarbone. “Sidra?"

Mor winced. “I haven’t had the best experiences there-"

Her friend only rolled her eyes and grabbed her arm, pulling her across the street. “But at least it’s not Rita’s, is it? This place has half-price Bloody Mary’s on Saturday nights,” Amren said with a gleam in her eye.

This time Mor rolled her eyes. “Because no one drinks a Bloody Mary at a club, Amren.”

Amren only shrugged. And even though Mor would have rather gone anywhere else after what had happened there last weekend… at least it wasn’t Rita’s. They were celebrating her friend’s return home, after all, so it was only right for Mor to let her choose where they went. “Fine,” she conceded, "but you’re buying the first round."

They arrived at Sidra a few minutes later. The bar was already fairly crowded, but Amren slithered her tiny form through the hoards of people and appeared with drinks in mere moments. Apparently, Amren had more sway here than Mor had realized, but she wasn’t complaining. She clinked her vodka soda against Amren’s Bloody Mary and the pair set off to find a table.

Mor thought that being surrounded by people and upbeat music would distract her, but she was quickly realizing that her hopes had been futile. Thankfully, Amren lead them to a completely different part of the bar than the one Mor had been in last Saturday, but that didn’t stop the unease from settling hard in her stomach like a stone. Mor caught the eye of more than a few guys as she and Amren walked through the bar, but she avoided eye contact with all of them. Every one felt wrong - blue eyes, predatory gazes, blonde lashes. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“See, this is why I don’t bother falling in love with one person,” Amren said as they found a vacant booth to sit in. Her eyes followed one of the guys who had been looking at Mor, and she gave him a smile laced with the promise of murder that had him running in the opposite direction. She chuckled. “It ruins the fun of when that person's not around.”

Mor threw her hands up in exasperation. “How do you-"

“Don’t finish that question. I know everything.” Amren took a long sip from her Bloody Mary. “And you’ve been making eyes at Azriel for years. I’m not an idiot, even if he is."

Well, Amren wasn’t wrong. Mor grunted in agreement and shot back the rest of her drink. Chuckling, Amren rested her chin on a hand. “What did the prick do to make you so…” her gaze flicked up and down, “unhinged?"

“Nope,” Mor waved a hand in dismissal. “I didn’t come here to have girl talk. I came to dance,” she stood up and smoothed down the skirt of her dress. “You coming?”

Amren scoffed and sat back in her seat, as Mor expected. As she made her way to the dance floor, Mor couldn’t help but smile at the idea that her friend had really only come here for the Bloody Marys.

This bar had a DJ rather than a live band, but he wasn’t half bad so far as Mor could tell. The women on the dance floor were yelling requests back and forth and he was accommodating, earning an uproar of excitement with every change of song. Mor got to the dance floor right as her favorite Beyonce song began, and she cheered along with the crowd as she began to dance.

_I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you,_  
_Wanna show you how much I'm dedicated to you,_  
_Wanna show you how much I will forever be true_

Mor loved dancing probably more than she loved anything, loved feeling drunk on the music even when she was sober, loved the social aspect of shouting lyrics with other people on the dance floor and moving her body against another. She never felt more free than when she danced.

She swirled her hips and the red fabric of her dress twirled with her, danced with her. Spinning on the spot, Mor sang the lyrics to herself, looking for anyone nearby to revel in the music with. But everyone was dancing with a partner, soaked in the attention of the person pressed against them. Shaking her hair out, she tried to sink into the lyrics on her own, tried to let loose and feel the freedom she so desperately craved.

_Wanna show you how much you got your girl feeling good,_  
_Wanna show you how much, how much you understood,_  
_Wanna show you how much I value what you say_  
_Not only are you loyal, you're patient with me babe,_

Not even Beyonce could do that for her tonight, and the revelation hit her like the climax of a power ballad. Freedom, she realized, came with the ease and confidence she got from sharing the dance floor with her friends. But without anyone to enjoy herself with… Mor realized why she’d spent the week listening to sad music rather than dancing alone to upbeat songs in her room. Without the right atmosphere, the right people, she felt empty.

And even with a glance, Mor could see that not a single person on that floor matched her dancing quite as well as her friends could… as Azriel could. And she wanted to kick herself for not being able to enjoy the one thing that should be able to take her mind off of him, but he was the reason for her most favorite moments of dancing. The stolen glances and the moments where their eyes locked, and stayed that way, the tension a thrill that ran up her spine. The way their bodies moved in perfect sync, every brush of his hands on her skin leaving her burning in his wake. The way he sang their favorite lyrics in her ear with his deep, honeyed voice -

_Wanna show you how much I really care about your heart,_  
_Wanna show you how much I hate being apart,_  
_Show you, show you, show you, till you through with me,_  
_I wanna keep it how it is so you can never say how it used to be_  
_Tonight I’m gonna dance for you..._

Gods, she was stupid.

He had even been giving her clues that way, hadn’t he? And she’d just laughed about it, encouraged him to find a girl to dance with - not her, no, a _girl_ girl- thought nothing of it when he’d just take a seat at the table instead of listening to his best friend’s advice, would continue to watch her -

Mor didn’t realize she had stopped moving until someone bumped into her, spilling beer on her shoes. “Excuse me,” the person slurred, pushing Mor again until she found herself being shoved out of the crowd entirely.

She stumbled until she found the women’s bathroom. There was a line, of course, but she stood behind a gaggle of younger women and rubbed her face with her hands. Just a minute… she needed just a minute and then she would find Amren - they could sit and chat for the rest of the night, drink a bit, Mor would forget all about the show that was happening just a few blocks away.

What would happen if she really didn’t show tonight? If she never went to a show again? Even if Az wasn’t… whatever she wanted him to be, he was still her best friend. What would happen if she stubbornly avoided him forever? Was it worth her pride to lose him forever?

No, Mor decided. It wasn’t.

It took a moment of true vulnerability to realize that Mor wasn’t going to give up on Azriel that easily. She needed to go to Rita’s, and she needed to show him she would fight, she would practice what she preached and she would follow her damn heart, for him, for _only_ him. That heart could be caged no longer, and Azriel was worth the effort it would take to break free and bear her soul.

Pushing past the other women in line, ignoring their indignant scoffing, Mor found herself on autopilot, heart racing, somehow finding her way back toward Amren’s booth without truly realizing how she got there. Her friend was where she had left her, but had been joined by two others that Mor could hardly make out with the fog of the bar sitting thick in the air. Mor didn’t care. She fixed her gaze on Amren as she approached, slamming her hands down on the table. “Amren, I need to go to Rita’s. Now. I need-"

It was only when one of Amren’s companions laughed dryly that Mor noticed the golden-brown heads of the Archeron sisters at the table.

“What the-” Mor blinked a few times as Nesta, Feyre, and Amren stared at her from the booth. Nesta was still laughing, as if exasperated, and Feyre looked like she might explode, her lips were pursed so tightly together in a smile. “Can someone tell me what’s going on-"

Amren pointed behind Mor, cutting her off with the unexpected gesture. At the same time, the music cut abruptly, and Mor turned around to follow Amren’s direction. They DJ seemed to have taken a sudden leave of absence from the stage.

The crowd quieted to a dull roar, the lights raising slightly, and Nesta finally stopped laughing. Mor’s ears were ringing with the ghost of the loud music and with something like anticipation. Something like hope.

Mor vaguely heard Feyre squeal as he took the stage steps two at a time, snatched the DJ’s stool and microphone, and sat down in the center.

And as Azriel adjusted his guitar, he looked directly at Mor. And he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter:  
> Burn by Lin-Manuel Miranda from Hamilton the Musical  
> Dance For You by Beyonce


	10. Chapter 10

_Azriel_

“Why are you grinning?” Cassian asked cautiously.

Azriel felt calmer than he should have in the moment all of his plans fell apart. But maybe… maybe they hadn’t. He looked at his friend and raised a brow. “She’s not coming?” he responded, still grinning.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged quizzical glances, Rhys shrugging as Feyre circled around the chair to face Azriel. She crossed her arms and bit her lip nervously. “No,” she said. "Nesta texted me a couple of hours ago and told me. And then I texted Mor and told her she had to come and she… wouldn’t budge."

He sat up, placing his hands together as ideas began to swirl and form in his head. Feyre backed up into Rhys, his hand instinctively finding her hip, and Az thought of how he and Mor magnetized similarly, how easily her body melted into his when they danced. How they both used that dancing to escape… and how that wouldn’t change even if she was trying to avoid him. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Mor wasn’t going to let anything stand in the way of her, the music, and a dance floor.

“So she’s not coming to Rita’s,” he observed, "but it’s Saturday night.” Azriel lifted his eyes to his friends. "Where is she going instead?"

The three others were silent for a moment before Rhys spoke. “You want to go to her."

Azriel nodded. “Do you think Rita would mind if we were a little late to our show tonight?"

He stood as he took in each of their reactions. All of them wore different expressions of incredulity on their faces. Feyre looked concerned, Rhys looked a bit perplexed, and Cassian was smirking. Like he was already scheming.

Rhys shook his head slowly. “Az-"

“Mor doesn’t want to go to Rita's because she thinks I won’t sing. Or that I’ll try and… I’ll disappoint her again,” he mumbled the last bit, and watched Cassian’s grin turn into a slight frown.

"But I refuse to,” Az intervened swiftly. "I’m going to sing this song, and it doesn’t matter if I’m at Rita’s or another bar or in the street. I’m going to show her that I would do anything. Anything, if only it meant that she knows I want to be with her."

No one spoke for a moment, likely surprised at the outburst of feeling from their reserved, shy friend. But, frankly, Azriel needed their help if he was going to pull this off, and he _had_ to pull this off. It could be his only chance.

And it was going to take a grand gesture to convince his bandmates to miss a show.

Cassian was the first to step forward, and he gave Azriel a broad smile. “I’m in. Take a chance, brother.” A corner of Azriel’s mouth turned up as Cassian clapped him on the back.

Feyre whipped out her phone and began texting as she nodded. “Me too. I’m asking Nesta where she’s going right now."

Smirking, Cassian took his own phone out. “I'll tell her I’m picking her up in ten.” Feyre rolled her eyes, but made no comment.

Azriel looked at his other best friend, who still seemed uneasy. “Rhys?"

He pursed his lips and spared a glance at Feyre, who was still texting, and Azriel saw the ghost of a smile cross over his face. Rhys looked back to Azriel and nodded, showing that he understood exactly why Azriel needed to do this. He understood very well.

“I’ll call Rita."

Half an hour later, Azriel’s living room was in full chaos mode. Rhys was on the phone with Rita, sweet-talking his way out of the show tonight. Azriel could tell from just the one side of the conversation that she wasn’t pleased, but Rhys had a way of woo-ing everyone. In just a few minutes, he was hanging up and nodding confidently, which Azriel took as a good sign.

Nesta had arrived only minutes ago, and she and Feyre had their heads together, plotting how to get Mor in one place at the precise time. They had learned from Amren that she was going to Sidra. Azriel’s nerves had grown knowing that he would have to do this in the place where they had fought, but he figured that it was only right for things to come full circle this way. While he had thought he would never, ever want to perform there just a week ago, now he was aching to get on that stage.

Cassian, meanwhile, was working magic through his connections in the musician community. He had first called Sidra to find out who would be playing there tonight, and after a few phone calls, he had gotten a hold of their regular Saturday night DJ. He was chatting amicably on the phone with him about the plan, and everything seemed to be working out perfectly.

All Azriel needed to do was… sing the song.

He hadn’t practiced. And he wasn’t going to. When Feyre asked him if he’d like to run it through once for them, he’d only shrugged and said, “I want it to be real, when I sing it for her.” Even Nesta had smiled at him.

Before he knew it, they were all piling into the band’s van. Cassian and Nesta sat up front, Rhys and Feyre in the middle, and Azriel in the back with his guitar.

As Cassian leaned back to reverse the van, he grinned. “After tonight, we may lose our appeal,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Feyre asked, her brows knitted together. Nesta rolled her eyes as if to say, _here we go_.

Cassian chuckled and turned back to face the road as he accelerated. “We’ll all be taken men,” he offered matter-of-factly. "How many of those pretty girls in the audience do you think come for the music, and how many do you think come for the off-chance they’ll get to f-“

He was cut off with a slap to the arm, courtesy of Nesta. “Shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

“Can I opt for the latter?"

Rhys snorted a laugh, and Feyre grumbled, “Just drive, and get a room.” Azriel cracked a small, secret smile. He wished Mor were there to share it with.

“I’m just saying. All the pretty girls like Azriel,” Cassian continued, a brave move for someone currently the target of Nesta’s death glare. “They’ll be disappointed when he shows up to Rita’s with Mor from now on."

“ _Life is anything but fair, life is anything but fair_ ,” Rhys sang the lyrics to one of their original songs in reply, and Feyre erupted into a fit of giggles even as Nesta continued to scowl.

Azriel remained silent for a few minutes, and eventually, Cassian caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Why do you look like you have food poisoning, Az?"

Rhys and Feyre turned around to look at him, and suddenly this all felt very… real. Which was fine, but there was a small part of him, like an insistent shadow that followed him around and whispered in his ear, that left him feeling doubtful. Like maybe… maybe Mor didn’t want him to show up, unannounced, and try to win her back. That maybe this was all for nothing.

He realized the van had stopped. They were parked on the street, and Sidra was… it was just down the street.

“Do you really think this is a good idea? That this will work?” Azriel asked in a steady voice.

After a moment of silence, it was Nesta who said, “Cauldron Az, how many times does Mor’s best friend have to tell you she’s in love with you before you start to believe it?"

And that was just it. As much as Azriel gave to Mor, as much as he cared for her and wanted her and loved her, he never considered the notion that he deserved any of that in return. The reason he and Mor were still stuck in this situation was because she was right. He really didn’t think he was worthy of her, or that he was able to be loved by someone as… _perfect_ as Morrigan.

But in fact, she did love him. And he… he had to let her.

Azriel nodded.

“Amren said she’s just gotten up to dance,” Feyre said cautiously. “She just texted me. Are you ready?"

He was. He had never been more ready.

The five of them went in through the back entrance. Cassian had called the bouncer ahead of time to arrange it, and everything went smoothly. As Feyre and Nesta made their way to find Amren, the boys navigated backstage. Cassian gave Az an encouraging punch on the shoulder before finding the woman who worked tech to ensure that everything was ready.

Rhys clapped Azriel on the back as he strung his guitar over himself. His eyes sparkled as he took in the confident expression on Azriel’s face, one so rare that Rhys knew not to question it, and he gripped his shoulder gently. “If I know anything about my cousin,” he said, “it’s that she knows what makes her happy. And you make her happy, brother.” Rhys gave him a nod as the DJ’s set faded and the lights lifted slightly. Show time. “Go get your girl."

As if compelled by some other-wordly power, Azriel stepped out to the side of the stage and propelled himself onward, taking two steps at a time until he suddenly found himself under the shining spotlights. His hand, somewhat detached from him, took the stool that was positioned there, perfectly set for him, and adjusted the microphone in front of it. And then he looked up into the crowd.

And he saw her.

She was a force. A force that hit him so hard, he thought he was falling off of the stool for a moment before he realized that he was still sitting perfectly still, absent-mindedly adjusting his guitar. It was like his body was several steps ahead of his brain as he looked at her.

Mor was wearing a dress he knew to be one of her favorites, a deep red that hugged all of her curves in the right places, that made the gold of her hair shine like the sun. Which was only appropriate, Azriel thought, when she was already so blindingly breathtaking. Her body was rigid as she continued to stare at him, her brown eyes wide with confusion and astonishment, but there was something else in them.

There was… desire. _Love_. Azriel smiled, and he didn’t dare look away. As if he would be able to if he tried.

He had planned a small intro. Something about being sorry that he interrupted the other set, something about being sorry to Mor. Some other things that now seemed so… unimportant. The song. The song would say exactly what he needed to say.

But there was still one thing he had to say.

So he cleared his throat and said the only coherent sentence he could make in that moment. “Morrigan,” he said boldly and reverently into the microphone. “This one is for Morrigan. This one, and all the ones before it, and all the ones forever."

And he began to play.

\----------

_Mor_

“Morrigan,” Azriel said, and her heart nearly exploded out of her chest. _He said it. He said my name._

_He said it._

"This one is for Morrigan. This one, and all the ones before it, and all the ones forever."

There was her name again. Her pulse raced. Her stomach dropped. Her eyes burned.

Because Azriel was here. At Sidra. On stage. Saying her name.

_Playing a song._

He was playing a song for her, and her alone, and Mor had no idea when she started to move but she was walking forward, forcing the crowd to part for her as he began to strum his guitar in a heartbreakingly gentle melody that filled her soul and her heart and her entire being.

_May the last leaf fall, she pinned my heart on the wall,_  
_Cupid’s flaming arrow making sure it won’t fall,_  
_Did we miss the morning?_

Even hearing him say her name, as a part of that word - _morning_ \- made her heart clench, and she continued to move forward. It was intentional, that addition of her name. She knew. She saw it sparkle in his hazel eyes as he sang the lyrics, and it was then that she realized they were still looking at each other, and they hadn’t stopped.

_I told her I’d been awake, I told her I’d been adoring every move that she made,_  
_If nature is beauty, then she is the most natural thing,_  
_'Cause loving is high in the winter but it soars in the spring._  
_Here comes the sun to dry off the rain,_  
_And love leaves its mark, as it flows through our veins._

Mor moved until she found an empty table near the stage and stopped just in front of it, unable to navigate around it and keep looking at him at the name moment.

The lyrics wrapped around her heart and held on for dear life, each and every one holding more meaning than anyone in this entire bar would ever suspect. The seasonal imagery made her chest constrict, the subtle depiction of just how long they had been dancing around their feelings for each other making her ache for it to have been different, for her to have realized sooner, for them to have had this moment a long, long time ago.

_Don’t undo the past, what's done has been done,_  
_We walk a heart shaped map, with our backs to the sun._  
_Did we miss the morning?_  
_I told her I’d been awake, I told her I’d been adoring every move that she made,_  
_Here comes the sun to dry off the rain,_  
_And love leaves its mark, as it flows through our veins._

But this was happening here, now, in front of her and in front of their friends and in front of everyone, Azriel was laying it all out before her and vulnerably waiting for her to pick up the pieces. And she knew deeply how difficult it was for him to open up to anyone, in front of anyone, especially when it came to his feelings for her. Mor didn’t know when she had started to cry, but a tear fell down her cheek and landed on her dress, forming a small, damp circle on her bodice.

He had found her. He’d followed his heart and damned what anyone else thought and he had found her, and that was all that mattered.

_If you break me in two, oh, you'll see her name,_  
_I remember falling for you, and I still feel the same,_  
_Don't undo the past, what's done has been done,_  
_We walk a heart shaped map, with our backs to the sun._

Azriel finished the song with a roar of applause from the entire bar. Mor stood still, her whole world on pause as he smiled again at her and only at her and only _for_ her and she wanted to run to him, but he was already standing. He lifted his guitar over his head and handed it to Rhys and he jogged down the stage steps and Mor stayed rooted to the spot, her blood pounding in her ears and her breath coming in short gasps.

And then he was standing in front of her, his tousled black hair falling in his eyes and those eyes on hers as he lifted his thumb to her cheek to wipe away a tear.

Even there in front of strangers at a crappy bar and with horrible rap music beginning to fill the speakers in the background, he looked at her like he never wanted to be anywhere else but there. With her. He moved his hand to push a curl behind her ear, eyes flicking briefly to her lips before meeting hers again. “Morrigan?” he asked.

The way he said her name, like every syllable was precious, made her breath hitch. “Azriel,” Mor said, her voice coming out as a breathless croak as she leaned into the feel of his hand behind her ear.

“There’s one thing I didn’t say up there that I want to tell you."

After a deep breath, Mor brushed her hand against his, and a jolt of electricity surged up her arm. “Oh? And what is that?” she replied, trying to gain some semblance of her former self-control.

Azriel smiled. “I’m in love with you,” he breathed.

Unable to contain her smile, Mor threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, her hands finding their way into his hair. And he kissed her back, eagerly and passionately, and she was going to melt right there as his hands found her waist and pulled her closer. His lips were soft and welcoming and _reverent_ and Mor pushed up against them with her tongue and _Cauldron_. When she tasted him her knees buckled, and Azriel smiled against her mouth as he tightened his grip on her.

They finally broke apart, and Mor rested her head on his forehead, her eyes on his. “I love you too, Azriel."

He let out a breath, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. After another kiss, this time soft, easy, casual - one that Mor could foresee becoming a daily occurrence - Mor moved her head back and gave Azriel a sly smile. “This conversation is very much an improvement from the one we had here last weekend."

Azriel laughed, and it was such a wonderful sound that Mor laughed too, and suddenly she was being lifted up and they were spinning completely out of time with the club music but completely in time with the music in their own world, the world in which he was the boy in the band and she was the girl in the front row and no one and nothing could come between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter:
> 
> All The Pretty Girls by Kaleo  
> Did We Miss The Morning? by Seafret
> 
> THANK YOU FOR THE WILD RIDE, FRIENDS. I can't believe it's finished. This is the chapter I've been waiting to write since I came up with the idea of this fic. It went from a one shot to ten chapters and I'm so happy with the result. Thanks for reading <3


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